Shoe boxes are for dead chickens,
the shallow grave of sunflowers,
and wooden tombstones in magic marker

we had all seen something dead before--
the sunflowers who sang elegies to
each other in the rain that came
too late-- i covered their bodies
with a shovel full of dirt so 
i didn't have to remember
i failed them as a mother--
the next day saw
a cardinal fire-work feathered--
spat against a window by his own
desire to 
fly into another sun-- we'd all 
seen the squirrels unraveling
their hang noose intestines-- swung
above their heads to hitch-hike
on at the bottom
of the hill on Noble Street--
we had all seen something dead
forehead graced with a shovel of dirt--
a shallow grave of the sunflower--
it is another thing to realize
something is dying-- 

i was a plaid skirt and blue knit
hat-- june was always rare
-- especially for ten year olds--
i crouched in front
of the chicken cage--
tapped the bird's 
candy corn beak every time
he tried to sleep-- he was so
so so so so sleepy 
all the time-- 
I had wondered what a chicken 
would dream about that would make him
so eager to sleep-- and his fur
was different colors than 
the other two--
a loose breath of a cloud-- pulled
free in cotton balls from
the medicine cabinet--
i knew
he was like me.
i knew he thought about
sunflowers-- sipped water
like a cup of Oolong tea--
lay in the soap dish of my
hands to sleep
sleep sleep like we all wanted--
sleep in the hand of a giant
-- i wish i could have
known he was dying-- i wouldn't 
have woken him up so much-- 

don't wake me when i'm dying
brother-- i want to fall asleep 
in the hand of giant-- my giant--
help her write my tombstone
in washable marker-- i wait
for a shoe box-- like
we all wait for a shoe box--
tap my beak three times
until it becomes a sunflower seed--

i told my mother three hours
later that my chicken didn't wake up
anymore-- that he was sleeping--
and then i said that he was dead or
dying but sometime it looked
like he breathed--

i was a bad mother-- an alarm clock
mother-- a sunflower grave mother--
too late with the rain-- you
can sleep-- we've got enough shoe boxes--
you could have asked for my hands--
you just seemed so so so so
sleepy--

i picked him up with two forks--
transferred to the converse box-- 
-- the other two chickens
seemed to have known more than i did--
they didn't watch me while i
removed his body like a salad topping--
and i didn't cry until i tripped down
the stairs-- with the box
and a wooden tombstone in my hand--
he flew again-- brief and stained glass--
his body a slant-eye statue--
i cried because he had been so so
so so soft
and so so so so
sleepy-- turned stone stone
body of the dried sunflower--

someone told me it's hard
when animals die-- and i had wanted to
tell her that it wasn't hard when 
animals die-- it was hard
when you forget what shoe boxes are for--
forget that sleeping 
is all that's left to do--
and we had a hand and soap dish
-- drank Oolong tea from 
the kitchen table-- i just hadn't
wanted to see him die
so hard and stone-- 
i kept his elegy brief
and the sunflower bodies rolled
over where he slept--

when i die don't pick me up
with forks-- i want a giant 
and a show box-- and a shallow
grave
like the sun flowers