I once wanted the skulls
of my chihuahuas
preserved after
their passing
devotion to the small
companions whose tenure
spanned longer than
any dwelling or
common law
Time had polished
their rude
edges
and oh how
they’d softened
I could not
bring myself to ask
for the severing
then boiling of bones
—Hadn’t their enlarged hearts
and watery lungs been
torment enough? In the end, rien
No bone nor ash nor altar,
an absence familiar as
floor crumbs undevoured