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.