Never once did I think that I could be this happy burying you—but here I am—dirt on my hands and nail torn, full of grit. My hair that you love so well, limp and slick to my face; insects swarm my head but I pay the stinging flies no notice, not today. I’m on my knees in this flowerbed—Coneflowers and False Lupine bend to face me like priests giving communion and I open up and say an amen and a quiet thank you as the sun hits my face and I inhale the humidity itself; air laden with earth that I hold selfishly in my lungs. This chest full of hope now lies beneath the roots of a fern, loden nightdark intertwining that will forever hold you in your keep, keep you in your forever. I arranged you with such careful consideration, all pieces touching lightly, informing each other, all within this one vessel.

a rib, sucked clean

one stone, worn smooth by a river that fit in my palm

goodbye lovely pearl button

the charm. You remember the one

A single strand of wet hair, made golden from my happiness

No one will ever know.