Xena @ 7:23 p.m.

by Gerard Malanga

Xena! Xena!

I distinctly remember the first time
I set eyes on you
one mild October morning
as I was going about my ways,
whatever they were,
& I paused for one instant
overhearing someone attempting to dispose of you
& I turned & walked back
& this stranger asked me to hold you
& I held you
& it was love at first sight
like it’s done in the movies}
& in this movie of real life . . . It’s God’s way,
realizing you were extra–special
like no feline I’d ever encountered
& I was right
for the life we’d have ahead
& now it’s nearly 15 years.
It’s been a long life in many ways,
many montage,
many words written not written & vintage, even.
In many respects,
we’ve gone beyond those words lost to me now.
Words I can only guess at.
Your face aglow of the countless fade–outs & fade–ins.
Those late morning naps on the window sill
blessed with the sun’s warmth.
Those sleeping nites beside me
& waking me to the call of a new day.
“In the end, there is no end.”
I see a heart happy & a heart heavy & that is you.
I see a downward spiral.
A matter of 10–minutes, at the most.
Impossible to resist those memories returning, recurring,
less focused now. Diffused
& more diffused,
like the drifting snows,
leaves furling & unfurling.
Your kitten mischief. Your tyger tyger eyes.
How does one measure the ephemeral?
How does one stay in the present?
My watch telling me it’s 7:23 p.m.
Nothing is gone from you.

Adieu Xena, bonjour Xena.