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
between
the living
and dead upon
our memorial bed