Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
The Blue Bowl
Like primitives we buried the cat
with his bowl. Bare-handed
we scraped sand and gravel
back into the hole.
They fell with a hiss
and thud on his side,
on his long red fur, the white feathers
between his toes, and his
long, not to say aquiline, nose.
We stood and brushed each other off.
There are sorrows keener than these.
Silent the rest of the day, we worked,
ate, stared, and slept. It stormed
all night; now it clears, and a robin
burbles from a dripping bush
like the neighbor who means well
but always says the wrong thing.