In the snow
buried under clear ice
there lay a small
dead animal,
half decomposed
I thought it said
something poetic about the world
though what, I cannot say
I pointed to the spot
in the snow,
you looked,
then shook your head
in sadness
For one reason or another
I always thought
you to be the
one with macabre sensibilities
but no,
perhaps its me
maybe its me after all
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