winter funerary
Rarely will she peel back
her sod and say “Come to me”…
Category: Death
To My Brother
You found a pinky in the woodpile,underneath some wet leaves.You brought it back to the house,hairless and blind, shivering.Satch said it wouldn’t survive an hour,without its mom, without its nest,but…
Knees
I’ve no such use for new knees,those new titanium knees.They weren’t there, in the garden,planting our first seeds, gravel pockedand stinging. They weren’t thereto scrub stains from the floorboards.They never…
Down at the Grocery
After the pops we watched,from the window. Rabidor not, the raccoon flailedlike ribbons on a demo fan,life pushed out like pulled airin the driveway. Two morefrom the cop to secure…
Like the Red Leaves
Just a forelimb on the road,careless as a twig,but no plunder for crows,no worthy feast for a scavenge,just hoof, hide and bone. And that’s how they left her,a narrow remain,…
Underneath the Radiator
Lumbricus Rubellus,or perhaps a finishing nail, 6d –I can’t tell from here,with these glasses –old ‘scripts – old eyes –shallowing focus. But, it is there,below the radiator,and the radiator is…
Sweet and Bitter Greens 