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Kenna May 2015
I liked when you sang me salty
lullabies, and kissed  
the leaves on my forehead.

When you bundled me
up in sand and soil,
carting me off the county fair,
winning an honorable
mention.

How I miss the parting
of your lips, the lurking
smile: always
there, always
hidden.

Make me a dandelion
crown, and shepherd me
through your shoulders.  

You can see the whole
world from up here--propped
up on the tombstone.

— The End —