Object Poem by Patrick O'Reilly

Down among the grass it lay
Cold and still and grey
No different from a rotting log
Or worn out stone
And I was too afraid to know for sure
So I burried the Catholic inside
And passed it by,
Eyes ahead
Not looking back to see if it tossed
Over the fence and out of the grass
And I was isolating myself
Away in some car
Defenseless
Speeding down Blindman’s Bluff
And around Deadman’s Curve
And after all it’s only sleeping
Or after all it’s just an angry drunk passed out among the bushes
And
Then I never gave it another thought...