Dirt-caked
knuckles
Earth-streaked palms
Bits of the
planet under your nails
You dug the
hole
With your
bare hands
Scooping out
fistfuls of
Crumbling
soil
Scraping
away at the
Rich brown
sides
You formed
your own little
Homemade
crater
In the sunlit
backyard
And when you
thought it was deep enough
You slipped
on your
Too-big
gardening gloves
And lowered
in
The corpse
of the mouse
You’d found
out by the fence
Matted fur
Tiny heart
not working
Eyes shut
against the world
You nestled
him in
A bed of torn-up
grass
A dandelion
resting by his head
And you
pushed the pile of dirt
Back over
Piled some
stones
Bowed your
head
And went to
wash your hands
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