Two dead leaves on the bedroom floor,
a dressmaker's dummy, headless.
Each time I ask the grater, it says All-in-One.
In our dog run of a yard,
I carry the bones wrapped in paper,
my wife in the kitchen, sharpening knives.
It is written in the circular
this brief apology
If death is fragile gravity,
our gravel hearts
Till then I keep the shades drawn,
1996 © 2008