Lizard Heaven
The love in which
Something so freshly killed,
Could be so freshly buried.
Taken care of, comforted
Dry skin, resuscitated
Oozing life out of your tiny nose
Even the largest of dewdrops will not save you now
For you are small
Even the warmest of suns will not save you now
For you are less
Even the biggest of hearts will not save you now
For yours is not beating
Maybe somewhere
You are able to say thank you
The red-iron dirt is saying thank you.
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