a preview

We Rot Together

When you speak your first words

I will remember how

my fluids filled your airways.

How our dying bones hooked,

tangled in some divine love –

partly sharp, partly soft wool.

We rot together.

When you go to die

I will give you

paper gifts, combs, and jars.

I will close the house,

keep the rooms still –

every cupboard open.

I will love you dead.