Too Late For That
Poor dead thing.
A mole some said.
Ugly for sure.
A vole others agreed.
The only thing we agreed on was that it was dead.
Poor dead whatever.
No funeral.
No service.
No words.
Just a hole dug in the earth
And a decaying body.
I wondered as I was digging
What else I would discover.
Hoping if I did it would not be human.
I have no idea what I would do about that.
A vole someone argued.
I rolled my eyes.
What did it matter?
It is not like we were going to be singing a song.
Or saying a prayer.
Or giving it last rites.
Too late for that.
I ignored them all and kept digging.
Hoping to find nothing….
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2019
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