Miniature (draft 1)


You buried the stray kitten for me, trying
in some way to save us from that grief –
from my mourning the echo of the old tabby buried
months before, you from sharing in that repeated
sadness. I had not been there when the older died.
By the time I learned of his death you had already covered
the hole in the earth over with mint and rosemary.

You buried them together for their likeness, pulling up
the herbs that had multiplied around the older grave.
They grew over the smaller mound within a week.


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