Memento

Final version of this, I hope. I think it's now much clearer and hopefully the title is not too much of a problem. :D Thanks!

She said, the black cat,

the one you purchased

as memento mori

for new love, must retire

outside her house

permanently.

She said, he could not be trusted

to curb masculine urges,

pulling back sharp

claws while near her

velveteen newborn,

so out he went.

Slinking

out of your house

with disgrace

hanging on his fur

like alley cat stench,

your black cat

took refuge

on the stoop,

waiting for you

to soften her mind

as every day

you stamped concrete

slurry that begins pliable

enough but is stone

nonetheless.

Nothing changed.

The cat was still

waiting as the child

turned two, robustly toddling

on pale uncertain limbs

even near perilous pets

of the cul-de-sac,

those pekes and mini pins,

resolutely daring to teeter

even near those razor

ribbon tongues and cluck

of prying neighbors.

What the cat said

was nothing as you spirited

away your tools and bags

of personal things

late in the night while the child

lay sleeping and his mother

watched your movements

from her second floor perch

never noticing that subtle

shadow silently stealing away

breathlessly under a blazing moon

perched in the branches

of her whispering acacias.