the gardener you hired is outside,
his ******* tools roaring:

the heaving bellows of a big bear
the whining of a radiated hornet

when the quiet of Monday morning
returns; I lay down my book
to take a look

he is yet here, snipping the
neighbor's Oleander

yes, it's still eager to climb over
our fence

he is stepping in the dormant beds
I told him not to desecrate--the black earth
where your petunias lived

I buried both your cats there,
with little ceremony

just as you requested, your last Monday