August 17th, 2013

2013, cyd, new

another damn poem

Star

little black
all of feathers
with a bad
limp and a
lame wing
made her home
in our
backyard
braving the cats
picking at
mulberries
and eating worms
out of my
hand
i made her
a nest
and she bounced
from it to
the mulberries
the cats
cuddled her

when the death
throes started
he came to
wake me
i held her
until she stopped
moving
and then i cried
now i go
out to smoke
i look for
the black ball
but she's not
there anymore
she's buried under
Tony the tree
and the cats
sit on her
grave.