you at least

were willing to allow

my hysterical release

kneeling down

crushing the flowers

dirt in my fist

i saw you saw

the amethyst

tepid on my breast

the wedding stone

which would atone

for my recklessness

but of all men

I loved him best

who lies in ashes

which now I pour

on my head

over me for him

in the precipice


the living

and dead upon

our memorial bed