I knew the end before she started so I laughed when she said raccoon. have you ever been to sacramento? even in the rain stars look like stars: scratches through a silvered mirror, cake crumbs on a peel-and-stick floor. the day she died I wore blue earrings. did you ever lose your keys? I get distracted by mud: the smell of worms, evidence of animals. I have crawled through the bathroom window and unlocked doors. I have picked up clumps of soaking wet leaves. I have back-tracked. do you ever hear a thing I say? it’s still raining. raining. there’s a raccoon underneath the bird feeder eating all the black-oiled sunflower seeds. a raccoon. did you hear me? I said a raccoon.
full of finches; no one
answers the door