CALL ME BELOVED

while driving home I watched a squirrel survey three lanes of traffic
before eagerly throwing itself under the wheel of the car ahead.
I carefully swerved – I couldn’t bear to strike it a second time
and immediately wished I could have written the whole scene differently.

it was a stupidly morbid bit of small talk to bring up at a dinner table
so I didn’t. The split second of its body going limp was indelibly written
on some obscure wrinkle of my brain, and I ate my casserole.
that was how I finished that night, feeling foolish for choking back sobs,
for the sadness I felt for the impermanence of squirrels.