We found out on a Wednesday,
Two days too late.

We walked barefoot through the dunes after sunset
And picked every yellow flower we could find.
(There were only yellow flowers.)

We put them out to sea,
One for each part of you we had loved.
One for your father who had loved you.
And one for each of the things you had loved,
Those lucky things,
Your best friend, your favorite bra.
A dozen scrubland daisies in the low tide.

The color stained our hands
And I cried every time I saw it-
On my palms, on the shoulders of the highway.
As if you had put every yellow thing on earth
And I would never be allowed
To forget it, the same way
I would never be allowed
To forget you.