No matter how many people surround your bed No matter who holds your hand You die alone She falls on your dead body as soon as you exhale for the last time Is it because you didn’t let her touch you while you were alive? She stands over your stillness in the casket, pats your shoulder, rubs your head Are you angry?
She clutters your grave with military flags, white angels with folded hands, plastic flowers, poems engraved on granite Does this chaos disturb you? She plants eerie nightlights around your resting place Are you afraid of the dark? She lies on your grave Fingernails filled with cemetery dirt Red eyes sobbing Does this annoy you? Summer arrives and no one has tended your grave The disarray that covers you creeps closer to your headstone Will you ever rest in peace?
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