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My mother's shop appears in my
Rear view mirror, backward; I
Linger sadly at that sight
And know that such attention might
Tip my vehicle to joust
With death, and then as dead as Faust
Lay my body flat and neatly
At that mercer's doorstep, sweetly
Natural, a rabbit, bitten
Through but silent as a kitten
Brought to a grim, approving master
By cats who fawn on meek disaster,
Guiltless of what they've contrived.
Here lies your son, as he has lived.
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