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Desert

Katie Berta | Poetry

The years I cared so much for animals 
were the years my care for me 
was leaving my body. Athens, Ohio 
was full of dead and dying 
cats, which I was always putting 
my hands on before they ran away. 
Then we moved to a barren place. 
Each yard fenced with cinder blocks, 
the only animal a dead rat I found 
floating in our pool. What does this 
have to do with me, I kept asking. 
Nothing, everyone told me, but 
a life without life is no life at all. 
I say this while the mourning doves 
hoot the beginning notes of 50 Cent’s 
“Candy Shop” from the tree  
in our backyard. For me, everything 
comes back to 2004 or 05. It was all 
terrible then, too, but in totally different 
ways.