On May Day my cat will complete his second month of absence. I was told when I adopted him that I should not let him outside because he could meet a terrible death. I let him outside, anyway, on the feeling that one should not incarcerate anyone. I regret that some days, since he may indeed have met a terrible death.

This is a lullaby for my cat and as I say, I am convinced lullabies are actually laments for children who have died. In this lullaby, the child wishes to be a bird, to go and comfort a lonely tree. You will be cold, child, says the mother, and dresses him so warmly that he cannot fly. The child is stunted and the tree is forlorn.


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