Hamilton and Bianca

Hamilton and Bianca, siblings,

look fresh as bread from the bakery.

White-dominant calico

Bianca, reddish-splotched white guy

Hamilton arrive attached

as if still in the womb. Spaying

almost undoes Bianca. Careless,

sloppy work allotted shelter cats

leaves her so loosely half-stitched

she almost spills her innards

and has to see a second vet

for repair. Separated, caged,

the siblings droop like daffodils.

Hamilton tries to befriend

his neighbor, but pines for his sister.

She curls into a seashell-shape

and refuses, when petted, to purr.

The life of the big room grinds on.

Bianca heals, but she’s sorry

she ever became a cat. A couple

employed by MIT arrive,

embrace the siblings, depart

with two cat carriers brimming.

A week later a chronicle,

with photos: brother and sister

playing, eating, trailing after

their doting human companions.

The last photo: two cats curled

together so tightly they merge.

The caption: “All tuckered out.”