I found your solitary grave:

a "t" bound by twine--two sticks from a mesquite

no name, your eulogy likely the
high desert winds,

and perchance a disappointed caw from a vulture for you were covered well

deep in dirt, hard work for any steel,
but after the toil

your grave digger took time to craft
a crucifix

otherwise, I would have stepped on your
grave,

an ignorant desecration averted by love's anonymous labor,

and the ancient blood on the cross