Wendy Mnookin

"The Cats"

The child is allergic.
They must give the cats away.
Oh which should she give up first,
and how far, and how long?
All? she asks.
Yes, all.
She forgets
her slippers, pink with sequins,
on the kitchen table next to the Cheerios
as she hurries to Slipper Day at school.

One by one the cats come home,
moody, demanding
bits of turkey, a shoulder to knead.
She is not comforted.
Didn't those children laugh and shout,
strutting around in their slippers?

"Afternoon at the Park"

Their baby reaches a hand to the flyaway balloon.
Peonies continue to bloom.
The father says the baby's name into her neck.
The mother ruffles her hair.

Rain arrives--
the summery kind, without much to it.
Rain arrives, rain leaves, sky
promises itself and doesn't reneg.
Prospects for benches are good.

The baby waves her hands,
the balloon vanishing.
Ah, those brass plaques.
Prospects for benches are ambiguous.
Peonies stumble.
The balloon will not be consoled.