Genesis for my cat

On the first day, a new generation of cicadas tickle my ears—

            all night I’m awake, listening to you barge through the house because of them.

On the second day, I show you a sunflower—explaining how the seeds

            arrange neatly in the Fibonacci sequence—this mathematics of God’s work.

On the third day, Rumi’s tomb in Konya opens, and he walks into a salon

            for his first nail trimming in nearly eight hundred years.

On the fourth day, I bring you to the post office to mail my copy of The Essential Rumi

            to Turkey, in the hopes of earning his signature.

On the fifth day, a baby star lands in our backyard, wailing

            within the monstera leaves—Rumi’s first live interview airs on television.

On the sixth day, you climb into the piano and allow Haydn to soothe your back

            with soft, kind hammers—afterward I swathe the star in blankets near your basket.

On the day of rest, I pepper your face with kisses as my maid cries as my mom cries

            as my brother hugs us both as the star wails and wails as my dad shushes it

                        and, holding you in my arms, I say, I’m leaving for college, and I love you.

Written by Attar Topobroto.

Attar Topobroto is a student at the University of Sydney. His poetry is published in 34 Orchard, the New Verse News, Eunoia Review, and other venues. He is a finalist of the Dan Veach Poetry Prize for Younger Poets from Atlanta Review. He is working on his first book, an illustrated novella, with Gramedia, Indonesia's leading publisher.