behind the boat of bottleneck ferns, everything
has capsized. blue-green seats billow bile, lichen
stuffing, so much upholstered sea-

foam. spiders weave windshield-webs to earth-tipped headstones,
unused water patio, boat unblemished by liquid
except rain, snow. sides spatter with mud bubbles.
burnished baseball bats rest

in a cross-shape. beneath loam: matted dog fur.
stillborn tabby kittens a few heart-
beats from the back porch, where they might’ve bumbled
if only the weather was warm.

spiders pull woven strands with opal backs in the cold, like
anchoring. so much brunt after burial, so much
to apologize for, the ignition that never sparked,
the unexplained barge brushing tree bark, the blot

and buried pets. rest.
every dog battered roadside semi-truck,
every kitten blue-born on the back porch,
every salamander terrarium-impounded,
forgotten, boiled skin left out

in sun. spiders wring ropes to stones and wood epitaphs,
lace bejeweled. every color green-blue, webs wrapping growth,
wedding seat-burst sapling to slivers, burnished wood.

every headstone at the berth, less
tipping. blackberry bushes thorning all the edges, gauze-
webbed in dew.