“In life, only the small details
are worth weeping over.”
— Phaedrus

Here comes that old ghost again.
up from the backyard grass
like a whisp of sandalwood
also orange blossom drifting
from the corner of the yard.

The ghost shimmers back and forth
to get my attention.

It is the time I killed a sparrow
with my BB gun. Fifty years
and I don’t still know why
except I thought that’s what you do
with such a thing.

I didn’t know what death is,
that it’s always personal.
Only two events are in the world,
without exception.

The bird wasn’t finished with living
and very confused, frightened.
So was I. We met in the sunlight
and made a ghost.

There is no such thing as an unloaded
gun or a small cruelty. So we are still there,
still terrified on the razor of time because
this is what plagues and haunts us.

J. Kyle Kimberlin
Creative Commons Licensed