The only time I would’ve seen another red panda

Would’ve been to make babies.

But instead, I was poached while vine-frolicking and stuck here

To stand watch over a baby who was not at all mine.

An ungrateful lump, let me tell you.

Wailing for one more story,

Throwing a fit when she wasn’t allowed to buy a toy with money she’d saved.

When her mama would trick her into thinking

She’d blown out the nightlight from far away on her bed,

That’s when my nocturnal hijinks could begin. But she’d stay up so late!

Don’t even get me started on the teen years—

Covering me up with Michael Jordan posters,

As if she, at her height, was ever going to be in the WNBA.

Me? All of this is against my nature.

I’m a solitary creature.

Even when she slammed her door and couldn’t have felt more alone,

She didn’t let me catch it from her—not even a little bone of loneliness.

And now she’s getting married and killing me.

I’ve heard rumors about how the Chinese newlyweds wear my tail for good luck.

She doesn’t look Chinese, so I don’t know what’s going on.

Maybe coming down from the wall will feel like the end of jump-roping.

I wonder who will guard her babies.

Not me. I’ve done more than my time.

Fourteen years was what I was supposed to have,

And I’ve been here for thirty-one.

I’m ready to go.

Do it during the day, when I’m asleep.

Pull me away gently, so I won’t feel the leaving.