The Service
As she bound long grass
and maple twigs into a
cross,
she sang in syllables
the size of tears
shed at a sparrow's
funeral
and each note
filled the cat with
guilt
I, of course,
accompanied on piano;
an old cigar box
with its lid flipped
back,
all the keys
drawn in
perfectly wrong
with a felt pen
The cat soon left,
feline remorse
so evanescent.
RR Carr and TD
McBride |
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