e. v. noechel

Raking leaves with half
A broken flowerpot
I coerce the snails
Off my cats azalea
Grave. Sparkling snot
Trails glimmer like moon
Commanded oceans and solstice
Stars shoved across the sky
A pile of leaves I build
Next to cat bones
And the fishy-sweet
Smell of dead thing.

I clear the ground
Under the yardstick
Marker sanded
Clean of numbers
By summer storms
And the acidic
Powers of bird shit.
I tend him
Like a wounded ankle,
Favoring the other side.

Move move move move
No time for silly
Things like carrion
Or flowers for a plaything
Lost like marbles,
But I haunt his corpse
Like a familiar, packing
Dirt and picking candle
Stubs like buttercups.
From Vault