For Frank by Sara Crawford

I wish that I
were Frank,
the cat,
as he rams his tiny
head into the bottom
of my chin,
as if to say,
“nothing else is
as important as
this.”

He gets distracted
by the silver earrings
on my nightstand,
fascinated by
gravity,
he paws at them
until they
fall
on the floor.
He stares in amazement.