Emptying a tub that I found

full, florid fetid water

topped by monsoon storms

old muddy chemically complex stench emptied

small bucket to big bucket during fifth trip forth

then back a dead sparrow

was scooped out, oh dear

heart rotting, guts streaming.

I put it in a good place, asked for a blessing. How long

a life? Why in the stink of the water, unknown.

Some of it splashed in my face. Tangible

metaphor. How many punches do I need before

I pick up the pen, to pick a little, talk a little. Bless you

bird, dear sparrow.