Today's poem is by Claudia Emerson
Animal Funerals, 1964
That summer, we did not simply walk through
the valley of the shadow of death; we set up camp there,orchestrating funerals for the anonymous,
found dead: a drowned moleits small, naked palmsstill pinka crushed box turtle, green snake, even
a lowly toad. The last and most elaborateof the burials was for a common jay,
identifiable but light and dry,its eyes vacant orbits. We built a delicate
lichgate of willow fronds, supple, greenlacedthrough with chains of clover. Straggling congregation,
we recited what we could of the psalmabout green pastures as we lowered the shoebox
and its wilted pall of dandelions into the shallowgrave one of us had dug with a serving spoon.
That afternoon, just before September and school,when we would again become children, and blind
to all but the blackboard's chalky lessons, the backof someone's head, and what was, for a while longer,
the rarer, human deaththere, in the heat-shimmeredtrees, in the matted grasses where we stood,
even in the slant of humid shadewe heard wingbeat, slither, buzz, and birdsong
a green racket rising to fall as thoughin a joyous dirge that was real,
and not part of our many, necessary rehearsals.
Copyright © 2007 Claudia Emerson All rights reserved
from Tar River Poetry
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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