by Julia Griffin

For Jack, the Walrus Muse, who would never do anything of the kind

“São Paulo names new law after dog that stayed by owner’s grave for 10 years:
The Bob Coveiro (the Gravedigger) Law ‘recognises the emotional bond between guardians and their pets’ … [and] authorises dogs and cats to be buried in graves and family plots whose concessions belong to their owners’ families. Bob’s former owner died in 2011. After her burial, the brown long-haired mixed-breed dog reportedly refused to leave her side…”
—The Guardian

(After Thomas Hardy)

Ah, are you digging on my grave?
No doubt I should have known;
You’ve found a place for running free,
And charmed a graveyard employee,
Or possibly you want to pee,
Or hide yourself a bone.

Mistress, I dug upon your grave,
But what you say is wrong;
I am a dog, I can’t explain;
I do not have a human brain;
I only know that, wind or rain,
This is where I belong.

Oh, my good boy, forget my grave!
You have a life to live;
Don’t feel you have to spend it here
In this cold place which humans fear;
You’ve nothing more to prove, my dear:
I’ve nothing to forgive.

Mistress, I’ll dig upon your grave,
And guard you where you lie;
This is the work I’m bound to do,
And other diggers, faithful too,
I hope will let me rest with you,
The day I come to die.