A Listerine bottle circa 1932,
some bent square head nails, rust—hinged
penknife, lumber etched with runes,
Or what rotted into runes. Some
appealing green flakes of glass sharp
as flint and a small circle of stones.
The broken bowl of an oxhead
meerschaum and the iron mouth
of a brick cistern crumbling in. Grubs.
And there, where the shadow
of the peak of a single gable lay, boxes
and the bones of several beloved dogs.