A shovel pounds dark earth
reaching, wretching through roots, grass
a rhythmic hum of slamming and tearing
breaks between
the faulty shuddering and gasping breaths
of a 5 year-old boy
reposessing a 21 year-old heart

We grew together
lived together
she, an outcast of ill-fortune
I the emotional mewing jabberjaw
we were comrades in legs and
the number three-quarters
hobbling through life together

tired and worn down, a full 18 years
she's turned to dust and polaroid memories
no longer tied to
a cardboard box full of bones and death
she exists with me, in me
a part of me

She died, and lived
and in my memory
I see her whole again