BREWERS AT THEOPHANY

2/3 of a cinder block
over my mother's
favorite cat that I ran
over on my way to
the public library.

To keep the neighbor's
dog from digging up the
shallow grave I dug in the
2/3 hard clay soil.

Finally, softer earth
for my mother's favorite
black cat. My grandmother
gives the eulogy, sings the
memory of his last day as
she saw it; it was good.

I plop the cinder block
down into the hole and
the Walmart bag
casket pops.
Pops like the cat's
little stomach when I found
him in the drive way covered
with flies. They were there for him.
Giving him kisses, taking him
home.

They weren't afraid to touch
him. I am no better than a fly.