Nancy Nielson

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Fatty Lumpkin

Fatty Lumpkin’s growing old.
I noticed that this winter.
She lies beside the heaters, always cold.

No longer does she saunter
through the house as if she owns it.
I noticed that this winter.

Fatty’s gotten thinner. She loves to sit,
soaking up the sun. She’s quit chasing
through the house as if she owns it.

Too long in one position and she’s bracing
for the pain. She rubs against kind words,
soaking up the sun. She’s quit chasing

mice and chirring at the birds.
Love is what we give her
for the pain. She rubs against kind words,

and lies in laps, contentedly, to purr.
Fatty Lumpkin’s always cold.
Love is what we give her.
She lies beside the heaters, growing old.

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