I saw a bird fly neck-first into my window

one morning. The little guy was still

breathing when I went outside

to check on him. I tried

to save him but he died in my hands.

There was no other option but to host a funeral.

My parents were both home

but my dad’s snores shook the house

after his full-time night shift

and I was scared to show my mom.

I had seen her drown a baby squirrel who fell

out of its tree the year before. It was her version of mercy,

she couldn’t bring herself to kill it, the water was her way

of avoiding the weight of taking a life.

This service would be just me and the body.

I dug a hole in the garden

with the trowel we used

to pick up dog shit in the backyard.

The funeral was short. I placed

the corpse in a plastic bag

because I didn’t want it to get dirty.