poems by Rena J. Mosteirin

Blog Archive

Thursday, October 20, 2016

Sheep Dip Tea


I’ve seen it—if a squirrel shows up
you need to get rid of what does not belong to you.
If it’s a rabbit, you are in imminent danger.
Have you ever made tea from sheep manure?

The squirrel was down like he was dead
maybe he ate poison. Under the wheels of the car
I gave him some sheep dumpling tea
and he revived, wearing a tank top

shorts and flip-flops. The squirrel says
you should hide the money in the White Mountains.
The dirt eats gold bars only in the dark of the moon.
The squirrels will bite in the light

of the moon, black cats lay down
in the drive way, say circle-of-life
that fresh asphalt—so soft, so warm.

Down on that driveway I died
next to her. I’ve seen it done this way before:
we will both rise as crows
tomorrow morning, milk in my mouth.