Dead Eye

I hope worms devour me, cross my heart and let it be that my coffin lid lies loose. Lovely little bird, I don’t know if you’ve heard that I found you dead by my front door. No more chirping, singing lark. I put your body in the dark belly of the underground. Its image haunts me though, and I suppose I’ll never know what it was that scared said lark to death. Rotting underneath the earth the tiny creature shook with mirth while marveling at life’s cruelty. Its ghost I could not shake, and every time that I should wake I’d hear it laughing louder. So I retrieved the corpse from far below and chopped off its head with one swift blow, and it was at long last silent.