Katie B.

Cora

                      Cora

From my understated porch she oversees

Gazing at the sky she fidgets

She has outgrown her gown

And her unkempt hair frames her tender face

My shirt is saturated with sweat and

Day break is reluctant

The ground doesn’t give

I dig nonetheless

An adequate hole emerges

I place Cora in the soil

Her red collar in place

In unison the task harkens sobs

She rests blind to her end

We talk about her less and less

We move on