On the eve of the first day of Spring
I found the remains of you, once a toad,
Bloodied and crushed in our quiet cul de sac
The eyes of the street were closed
Curtains as lashes guarding the mind
Of the suburbanese sleeping by the light of the box.
Good people, don’t get me wrong, but people nonetheless
For to live in decency here, is to slaughter the innocent
On the altar of raising our own young. But we recycle!
Today I passed another. Its companion pecked away desperate
As I tried to chase it off the road. No time for birds to mourn.
I wanted to believe that the beasts are without souls
It would mean mercy to them, clear my soiled slate. Yet,
In that instant, I saw its unknowing wisdom in the beads
Upon its tiny head. Nothing to gain from the world of men.
How unfair you must perish now, as the grass awakes,
As life forced you down the road to perdition. I stand by
As a reluctant accomplice. I stroke the dog and water my plants.