Insulin

The cat has been diagnosed with diabetes.
Now all is more difficult
as I drive to work in a needle
passing other needles
over the river that won't flow
toward the work that will never end
with a mind that must be punished
for being too sweet.

And yet, is it really about me?
What of the struggle to survive
in her body, her aging prison?
She is older than me in cat years
or people years, I never know which.
Perhaps right now, she is writing poetry
. . . he is sad for my plight
and he'll stay up all night
with that stray ball of grey in his head.