one day
i realize
if i stay here
long enough
i will become the dust
beneath my feet

a cardboard box
of rattling bones and ashes
scattered on the dusty road
in the morning sun
horses will trample
what is left of me

still
the owl in the tree will hoot
wild canaries will sing in the afternoon
swallows will dive precariously
in the momentary space
after i have taken flight

will anyone remember me?

 

~~For Butter, because, for as long as she could,
she saved the finger prints of her mother.