Grandma laughing on her deathbed.

Eternity, the quiet one, listening in.

Like moths around an oil lamp we were.

Like ragdolls tucked away in the attic.

In walked a cat with a mouthful of feathers.

(How about that?)

A dark little country store full of gravedigger’s children buying candy.

(That’s how we looked that night.)

The young men pumping gas spoke of his friends: the clouds.

It was such a sad story, it made everyone laugh.

A bird called out of a tree, but received no answer.

The beauty of that last moment

Like a red sail on the bay at sunset,

Or like a wheel breaking off a car

And roaming the world on its own.