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More poems by Jane KenyonJane Kenyon | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Jane KenyonBooks by Jane Kenyon

The Blue Bowl

Jane Kenyon

Like primitives we buried the cat
with his bowl. Bare-handed
we scraped sand and gravel
back into the hole.
                               They fell with a hiss
and thud on his side,
on his long red fur, the white feathers
between his toes, and his
long, not to say aquiline, nose.

We stood and brushed each other off.
There are sorrows keener than these.

Silent the rest of the day, we worked,
ate, stared, and slept. It stormed
all night; now it clears, and a robin
burbles from a dripping bush
like the neighbor who means well
but always says the wrong thing.

Added: 25 Mar 2002 | Last Read: 24 Jun 2018 3:03 AM | Viewed: 7900 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/3842/ | Viewed on 24 June 2018.
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