The Undying Trust of One So Young

Death clings to our home
these days.

Involuntary bug-animal slaughters
by innocent hands.

She yearns to learn them.
Crushes them to her understanding.
Our two black Labs her faithful minions.

First there was the garter,
slithering its need
for compassion into our hearts--
teeth marks clearly visible.

The squirrel we're unsure of,
but she found it first,
crouching low.

My mother's fear calling
down to her from the patio above--
Don't touch it!

"Its eyes are open."

The etymologist sacrifices ten
to comprehend the one.
Wings partially torn,
the June Bugs putting up
civil resistance--hunger strikes
in a cage too full of food.

Yesterday a full grown rabbit
lay motionless in the front lawn.
It somehow knew, here was the place
to covet its final rest.

I envy her sense of ease,
the way she has circumvented
her parents' would-be instinct
to shield her
from life's passings.

The way she has chosen to listen
to a different calling--

And look directly upon life's offerings,
to study Los Ojos . . .
the Eyes.

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