Love

In death, his beauty truly peaks
His grayish blue pallor like a sky pregnant with rain
And I find him among the soft earth and trees sleeping peacefully
We hold hands, the silence consumes us in this lonesomeness.

Soon they’ll put him in the ground
Among angels, lambs and urns like trees
And I’ll find him again by moonlight
I’ll claw through the earth, scraping and scratching
And we’ll hold hands till the insects find us.