Grave Digger

GRAVE DIGGER
June 16, 2007

The soil reluctantly yields to my borrowed shovel
Top layer so cool. Black
Below lies a happier, light brown
Roots thrust into the damp hole
Sweet Earth

Mosquitoes want to bite me
they light and leave
wary of the guilt and grief shimmering from my arms

My dog Bitty lies in the garage
Wrapped in the blanket she anguished on for days

Right now I could stop shoveling
Heed the cries of my hip and knees
Walk across the yard
Look past her glazed staring eyes
Stroke her velvet head. Bolt upright ears

But I’m desperate to bury her
before the sun goes down
before the buzzing flies find their way into
the baby blue blanket
before the agony
of my inability to save her
carries me into this hole

See? By the time
I've dug her grave
—is it deep enough?—
her delicate legs have already stiffened


Still. How unjust
Put her in a bag
Lift her onto the wheelbarrow

Careful, careful

At grave’s edge I’m stunned
How can I put her in this hole?
How can I lift her little body one last time?

Our big orange cat rolls at my feet
Flipping from side to side in the tall grass. Flirting
He use to swat at Bitty until she wrestled him to the ground
growling fiercely
biting and wetting his fur
then she stood over him, triumphant

And we would laugh
Get him Bitty we'd say. Get that cat

She was blind before we moved to this house
She learned to navigate the steps, the yard

Lately when I opened the door
she’d stay right there
Look up in my direction
Come on Bitty I’d say. Come on in

Now my transgressions rise
every harsh word
each impatient moment
A whirlwind of regret
circles my head and heart
Spins my vision.


The sun is setting. I gather my courage
Gather my prayers and
fill the hole
with dirt
with streaming tears
and with what used to be
my dog