Fragments on the Death of a Muskrat

A POEM

By David N. Beauregard, O.M.V. | November 1983

Ballpeened by a bumper,

Struck down by steel,

Bowled hard over pavement,

Done in with a wheel.

O cinders, O gators, O gadabout hens,

O children with maces and pigs in clean pens,

Please arrest, I do pray you,

Your primordial urge

To pause in sad convocation

And sing this rat’s dirge.

The Prodigal Father and His Child

“Well, Father, my share of the farm has

been turned into gold.

I take it…

Pietà

“Does the darkness cradle thee Than mine arms more tenderly?”

— Willa Cather

Parting Word

“If I do not go —
the Spirit will not come.”

…