I dreamt she was drowning in a cloudy, hot puddle.
Barefoot on the asphalt I watched and couldn't move.
She began to melt away.
Into iridescent grease.
Rancid meat left out in the sun.
I heard our mother wailing, crying out to god.
She was a shadow, not quite reaching where I stood.
My feet on the parched, yellow grass.
Where we played in the dirt with sticks and shovels.
Where we sat in pools of water from the dripping garden hose.
Pagan treasures in our pockets.
Of rocks and teeth and tiny gold lockets.
We should have said our prayers.
Kept silky pink bows in our hair.
And cried harder over our dead dogs.
