I won’t spill your ashes on your favorite
can’t say a prayer on federal land,
intruders prohibited on public property
There’s no trespassing
even for a feral spirit
The crows know more than we do,
coyotes sing howling folksongs
and the wind swirls an orange light
The snake bites the jackrabbit
who’s lost in the moonless night
Unless you want your son
prosecuted and fined,
you better heed the No Dumping sign,
and stay huddled in your box of char,
where your soul shall remain unscattered.
About the Poet
Mark Tulin is a retired therapist from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Mark authored Magical Yogis, Awkward Grace, The Asthmatic Kid and Other Stories, Junkyard Souls, Rain on Cabrillo. He’s featured in The Opiate, Still Point Journal, The Mindful Word, The Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, White Enso. He is a Pushcart nominee and a Best of Drabble. Visit Mark at http://www.crowonthewire.com.
For the first time in nearly five years, Vita Brevis is closed for submission. Read the full story here.