Size / / /
Content warning:
who’d have thought
your grandpa merle
would be the first to turn
into one of those
no-good pests, eating up
the neighborhood
like a june bug, sinking
his teeth into anything
with a pulse.
last night, i found
him in the garden,
tongue lolling
from his mouth,
flesh dangling
from his incisors,
blood dripping
on my begonias.
who’d have thought
a pair of gardening shears
would slice so smooth
through your grandpa’s
forehead.