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We walk on bones and flesh
The very soil beneath our feet
Nothing so much as the carcasses
Of worms
Your suburban garden the final resting place
Of unnamed forgotten wild ones
Of named beloved childhood companions
Canaries encased in dixiecup coffins
Cats wrapped in scraps of calico or towel
Weiner dogs under the roses
Buried in grief and stealth
Instead of calling the county
To haul away remains
That you can’t bear to release

The whole story

2 thoughts on “The Pope John Fish Memorial Rose

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