Gato Negro

We bought wine by the case, then
Gato Negro, acidic and cheap, little plastic black cats
Hanging from a red string
Trapped by the seal
You collected those cats in a chipped dish on the windowsill
When you had enough you strung them together
And hung them beneath the window
By the time we got a real cat, tortoiseshell not black,
They were gone
I never asked what you did with them
You might have told me
Probably I have forgotten
Your eye for detail
Was always much better than mine
As was your ability
To put things away
When they were no longer needed.