I remember three things about that day. 

                                                         One: a kitten at my doorstep,

its soft fur and wet blue eyes;

                                                        Two: kitty crouching beneath the porch chair, 

a guttural noise growing from the dogs’ throats; 

                                                       Three: kitty’s mangled corpse on the lawn, 

soaking in the afternoon sun; 

I don’t remember how old I was,

Why I didn’t think to save the cat, 

And how I spent the rest of my day knowing I could have. 

So much flew by me as a child, crash-landing in the mind I live with

now. I could have saved it.