I take the long way home after Lydiaâs wedding
down 67 into the cemetery off the highway
I stop at your grave where Iâm surprised to find
you finally have a headstoneâ
Theyâve moved all of the porcelain angel figurines into a heap, I gingerly peel them out of
the weeds and find the grass yellowing beneath their tiny wings
Lydia got married today, she looked beautiful. Your momâyou know her, she said you were here. a beat, thunder, like carillon bells, rumbles in the south. The bottom of an incus cloud, thick and flinty, rolls over the Wet Mountains
I looked beautiful too
The sprinklers turn on across the service walk,
long jets of white water
Iâm not angry, Thomas. Itâs okay.
I love you.
.
(C) Brooke Otto 2025