Death in the Spicerack

I saw it only once
xxxxxxcouched
Between the parsley flakes
And a box of cloves,
Just to the left of the basil,
Wet and dark,
Tearing with needle teeth
And tiny baby hands
At a bulb of garlic.
It happened just after
The news of a death in
My family had come
Scampering out of the telephone
And on past my ear.