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March 25, 2022 Poetry


Ian U Lockaby

Amiss photo

In the middle of
the street is everyone

you know. You
stand on the side-

walk though, 
missing them.

They begin to 
spread out

around the neighbor-
hood, looking for

the cat you lost 
as a child. You

don’t remember its
name, but they 

all seem to—
they’re all calling out:

Rain, Rain, don’t go 

you’re a cat and I
miss you and you’re


In the middle of the
street is the cat you 

lost as a child. You
used to miss him—

but you don’t any-
more. It begins to rain

but the cat doesn’t 
move, it just stares at

you, wide-eyed, as rain
washes the morning

dew from the back 
of his ears.

You think of who
you were the day you

lost that cat. You 
can remember how 

your ears felt— all
burning and blood

but you cannot 
remember the feeling

behind your heart
that day, anymore.

You speak to it—

You’re a cat, 
and I miss you, and

you’re gone. 

My heart

stands now in the 
middle of the street.

It’s starting to rain 
again. Behind its ears, 

the morning dew.
Sometimes it is so

lonely, being with 
what you thought 

you’d forgotten.
I hear everyone I 

know, hollering 
in the distance. 

My heart jumps

up and walks away.


image: Eve Ettinger