Discarded v3

No one
had taken it.
Not for a while. It-

was a walk,
a short walk,
less than a minute,
less than thirty seconds.

"No one
wants to come here,"
I was told. He was the only one
willing to bring me and it was difficult. He
hadn’t taken the walk either.

                                                              As we opened
            the gate, we were greeted by dogs and cats, eager
          to see someone, anyone.  No one had fed them in days,
  a week, perhaps, maybe more.  As a cat rubbed against my leg,
                                                                    it was inescapable
            but to lean over and utterly dreadful to touch it. They were
        starving and they cried and cried and cried and kept crying.
                                                                    They were dying. 
   
                                                                    I looked around.
                                                                  Where you were.
                                                          Where they found you.
                                                                    And then we left.
                                                        No one had looked for you
                                  for days.  I wanted to sleep, but we stayed. 
                                                           
                                            I remembered the smell of moth balls
                          from Grandma’s trailer when I was so much younger. 
                      An endless moment, this moment that I sat and looked
                                              at the place he pointed to; bottomless,
                                            brutally fused, tormented between then
                                                                      and now and before.


                                      We walked back down the driveway,
                                    to cousin's trailer, where everyone
                                gathered and grieved and mourned.
                               
                                            We walked in silence. 
                 
                        Next to his trailer sat your trailer,
            abandoned for years, once called home, 
                      now jacked up on cinder  blocks, 
                                            leaning unsafely,
                                                      discarded,
                                                      like trash.

                                                    Stray cats,
                          neighborhood cats, your cats;
      They assumed your home as their dwelling,
          a place they could rest and be safe to live; 
        and they claimed it as their own.  The smell
        left behind seeped into my skin, wrapping me
            in remorse as I rummaged your belongings,
                          searching for a letter somewhere
                                        in a box among boxes
                        as I sat alone;
                        unable to tolerate the smell,
                                incapable of moving. 
                           
                                              In time,
              I couldn’t tell the difference
  between  the heavy odor of cat
        and the feel of humidity;
  the sweat against my skin, 
                            or tears.