Dog It Stray--by Jeff

Let us consider, then, the methods of poetic endings.

I've been wearing funeral clothes for seven days.

You're dead anyway,

So.
About my disbelief?

Will I tend your garden for you--
Sit with my proverbial shotgun

of wits, means,
ready, taptap, to keep the rabbits

from the lettuce. I am
Perched in your tree which does not exist, suspended

I alone am escaped to tell thee

to

I alone

am bearer

tell thee

of the garden snake that died

(You don't know me, but

 i will

I will

tear your bedrock up)

Off my memories.