we’re made up of constellations and lipstick stains
of the alcohol we drink and the books we read
we’re made up of stolen glances and the leaves that we’ve picked up
of the flowers we put in our hair and the smoke we’ve inhaled
we’re made up of loss and gain and the pain we’ve learned to endure
of the streets we’ve crossed and the sunsets we’ve watched
we’re made up of unspoken agreements and words we wish we’d said
of lost dreams and newfound hope
we’re made up of the same things and we are all human
but we are all different
The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed. It had been in the long grass.
I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world
Unmendably. Burial was no help:
Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence
Is always the same; we should be careful
Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.