About the Dead: Poems

The Dead Cause

[18] T h e D e A D C AU S e On the porch, a grasshopper waved its serrated foreleg at me while i juggled groceries for keys; it was the kind of friendly wave i might’ve expected from a loved one, recently dead, reincarnated into this green husk. The whole ordeal triggered an alarm of distant thunder, stuffing my head with dark seeds; so after waving back, i ducked inside, fearful of inadvertently giving the dead cause to haunt me—the last thing i needed. regina was off doing research in Glen rose again, otherwise she would’ve identified the grasshopper using the scientific precision that always fussed my mouth with cobwebs. As it was, i dialed her number just to make sure she was okay, that she wasn’t yet a grasshopper. Probably nothing more than a locust—Melanoplus spretus, she said. It could’ve been Buddha. Maybe I should’ve invited it in for tea, i said before saying goodbye. raindrops the size of doorknobs began chasing a garbage truck past the kitchen window. i set the kettle [19] on the stove to boil, and with curtains curled back slightly, watched a procession of locusts lope out from the tall grass, apparently no longer waiting for an invitation. ...