He nearly died again

As my Nike nicked the pavement

And pivoted from his stuffed,

Animal body, furry-wet and felted.

He looked young, this spring his first, unseen.

I couldn’t see where the death had gotten in,

And tried not to reason as I left him there,

Wishing there were a field to gingerly take him down to the earth

In gulps of rich brown dirt.

mouse

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