the funeral

a summer sky

enclosed the house and garden in its dome -

black with midnight

and the whir of mostquitoes

mating on the river.

through the shafting moon

i saw beneath the mint

and rosemary

to the rabbit

whose eye reflected darkness toward the sky

with all the compassion of a glass bead.

he could not have been sleeping,

fitting instead my spade like a child in a satin coffin,

coldly limp

and heavy as a lodestone.

i think now i should have buried him

below the earth

where the warm soil would have welcomed him,

this, their spring child,

returned to them in stillness and grief.

i could have said a prayer for an unbaptized babe

and hoped a greater peace awaited

than the brief violence of his death.

it was over in a moment -

dog's jaws closing powerfully,

shaking to bits a fragile spine -

and not a single drop of blood to wet the ground

or feed the air.

instead i wrapped it in a plastic grocery bag

and placed it with the bins.

i should have said a prayer for all the rabbits.