8 – Sky Burial

This morning she was blood red,
so freshly gone, I thought I saw
the last breath, her spirit leave,
but it was only a breeze
softly caressing the underside
of her soft furred belly.

Now she is curbside,
brown and gone —
curled up fetal and food
for flies and birds,
this her sky burial,
memory aloft and scattered.

Promise me this…
that if we come back
you will make sure I return
in as many places as possible:
the field and the fen,
the hollow of pine on the back bend,
that long wide beach of Nauset.

Photo: Nauset Beach, Cape Cod. Photo and POEM ©2018, Jen Payne. National Poetry Month 2018, #8. If you like this poem, then check out the book EVIDENCE OF FLOSSING: WHAT WE LEAVE BEHIND today! CLICK HERE

7 Responses

  1. Beautiful! I had as one of my goals to attain during National Poetry Month to purchase a new poetry collection. Thanks to this poem (and a couple of others) Evidence of Flossing is my choice.

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