My grave in your thoughts

a final resting place,

no dirt but ashes on a distant shore

my name to be spelled on a salty taste

of a stranger’s tongue.

And what will remain

but the fading memory of my face

in the soft cradle of your hand.

Nothing lasting forever,

nothing ever needs to stay

only ashes on a distant shore

scattered across the sand.


March 17, 2021

“on the eve of my birth”


Smooth black down the seam of her dress-

A hundred years not enough on a grave

when a kiss resurrects your desires for a stone

decorated italics marking all that was done.

Shame and greed, but how love one more kiss

on these lips old and dry, to embrace

one last dance of a beautiful end with no trace

of the who I became and the what I’ll become-