I love watching Irish step dancers, their feet tapping

POETRY

by Theodora Ziolkowski

as if jerked by invisible strings. I am good at copying, especially if there is a mirror 
in front of me. A cat also learns by imitating. She curls up in her owner’s arms.

She sleeps the day away. In the cartoon, Tom’s attempts to catch Jerry always end 
in disaster. This is funny because in fables we are prepared for the cat to be clever. 

Today a woman called our splitting a “death,” explaining that when two people 
join lives then sever their union, death is the result of its dissolution. 

Obviously, a body goes until it doesn’t. My husband is the reason 
I hole out my wardrobe, give my sister all my old dresses, 

then see his hands on the straps & pockets as she models the red one 
& asks: Do you like it? It’s not easy to be left in the dark,

to confront a shade of myself. How I used to set the table 
with real silver, arrange across a plate the scallops I selected 

from beds of crushed ice. How long will it take for my body 
to become familiar? A cat is a witch’s familiar.

The two are meant to stay together. Yes, I did in fact take the cat 
& my husband was the one to nail that broomstick above my writing desk.

I now know why I felt trapped. How naturally he appeared every night 
in the doorway, light fizzing inside the lamp that he carried.