Those Who Sow In Tears Will Reap in Lizards
When our lizard died
you wore black for three days.
In mourning I asked.
Yes you said.
I miss the burial by thirty seconds
while looking for a stone to cover the grave.
It's in the shape of a frog
and because of this you are grateful.
In our living room the empty cage seems
not so empty
the crickets still singing his song.
We go to the pet store to see other lizards
They are cute like midget dinosaurs
but you, later in the kitchen, weeping
to the chirping of an empty habitat
hold me and say I can't replace my lizard.
I know how you feel.
I look at everything that moves in our house
An essential contrast to stillness
I couldn't do without it.