life after

three across, I plant pink geranium


ma would prefer red
and glen purple

papa's preference
escapes me but i imagine him just happy for the visit

i chatter and pull crab grass
as i have since childhood

brush the dirt from stone
releasing dates and names

my history etched beneath scrub pine

finally, at the base of each slab i tuck a coin
a silver amulet

a rote prayer

in one dream my mother reassured me she had no more pain

i convinced myself it was a visit
as i do when lights flicker or phones buzz

for two years i saved glen's email

he never replied
i never really expected him to

but sometimes, late at night when i write him into poetry; my cursor flips erratically
a strange dance across the screen; i tell him; i know he is here and that i miss him

i figure some day a psychic might say

"they are showing me dimes"

and that's when i'll know the truth of it











m