Here,
spent her entire life,
to find her in the state that I did:
and buried her for no other reason than the economy of it
as I don’t particularly like them
but will put no effort into bringing them low either
as i have come to know all five of them,
a whole little squirrel family
that has eaten all my irrigation into a total write-off
as thirst is something, I too, understand
as I fear parts of me have fallen necrotic
in the bittersweetness that death offers
as grace, in the brutality of it
her skull cleaned under a stretched canvass of face
a vulgar cheapness; silent beyond a whisper
I recall of her smallness on the roof years ago
an abundant life of distraction and urgency
framed in the effervescence of termination
in the severity of simplicity
and somewhere, there is a disassociation of me
curious to where my soul has run off to
distracted in the flames of violence and lies
consumed compulsively on my fone
I need to come to terms with all my various fragments
somewhere I know, in the wells of myself
that the realness of thirst never subsides
even as it abolishes the vanity of mortal schemes
As we sought for this day, our daily bread—
forgive us of our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us—
& lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
As if reaching for the sun
seeking to experience every piece of ourselves
tasting in the fragile nectar of existence,
to be worthy of earning our rest among the roots
In the shadows of the forest that echo, forever and ever.
