When I die,
I request that you steal
my corpse from the morgue
and bury it in a garden
in your backyard.
That way,
even when I'm rotting flesh
I can continue to make
something beautiful for you.

To hear her fond voice,
Music above all birdsong  .  .  .
  .  .  .  Mere background singers.

Through His mercy we have survived.
Wrath sparing
Temple and parthenon,
Synagogue covered
In moss,
Castles ****** but unbowed
For us to
Remember.

Allowed us to keep
Corners of
Eden:

A bedroom wall slathered
In picture frames,
A front porch dusted with snow—

Fragments
We tore away with

Tears clouding our eyes.

you are
friday night dinners and
red lip stained coffee cups
and family photos and skilled
sarcasm and twelve trips to
disney and your love for
avocados and adventure. you
are sunday morning bike rides
and hand written letters and
power outages with candlit ghost
stories and week long sleepovers and
summer dresses and worn out boots
and accident prone vacations and
themed birthday parties and forgetfulness
and gerbera daisies and singing too loudly
and too off key and GOOD mistakes and
better memories
you are constellations and sea glass and colliding galaxies
and sometimes the calander turns
like a lottery and once in a blue moon
you can find a girl with fractured
sapphires in her irises and a heart too
big for her ribcage and a spine as strong
as a lightning bolt
so thank you january twenty sixth,
for michele.

Gentle lady, do not sing
Sad songs about the end of love;
Lay aside sadness and sing
How love that passes is enough.

Sing about the long deep sleep
Of lovers that are dead, and how
In the grave all love shall sleep:
Love is aweary now.

i remember sitting on the edge of a wishing well
looking down
seeing all the shiny coins
and i wondered
what the people wished for
and if anyone wondered
what i wished for

i remember starring at the clouds
they looked like feathers and pretty daisies
and i wondered
if anyone was looking
at the same cloud as i
and if they saw the daisies as well