Plant it dead on a slab
A poem by Sean Kathryn Bratton
Words flow so easily when in my feels about you. I guess this is the end of that, I don’t even have a rhyme to chime back
I don’t even have a tear to cry, I used my last one to say goodbye. In the dirt with a single rose, I left you a tear with a song that I wrote
I packed you good, ground you up steady. Twisted the ends like last night’s spaghetti. I licked it twice and flicked it with my thumb. Now I’m left with nothing but a heart that’s numb
This is what you wanted, I mean I wanted am I right? Play pretend and then vanish out of sight. Pack it all up and take it out to the back. Wack away weeds, dig it up, plant it dead on a slab
Oh don’t worry, I’ll visit from time to time. Bring you a flower and my bottle of wine. Sit and tell you about my shitty day, all while using your tombstone as my perfect ashtray
Rest in love, rest in peace, rest in karma to say the least. I’m kidding, I’m not. I’m blabbing at this point. Just don’t say that I rested well in this choice
Dead to me is a term I visit too often, a term that fuels my fire one I like to get off in
To plant our deceased in the back of my garden, I first have to find a velvet red coffin. One that has gold detail and embroidery too, one I won’t mind digging up on a rainy day just to see you
Dead to me is something I do not take lightly. It comes with demons, demons that haunt me. It’s a risk I’m willing to take, I have many weed wackers, plenty of mace. Plus, I’ve seen these demons before. They hide in my closet, they’re not to be ignored. I let them out from time to time, read them the paper, pour them wine
My plan is to plant vegetables on top of this burial mix. Eat our dead love like carrot and celery sticks. Mash our dead future in tomorrow’s potatoes, throw out our honeymoon like rotten tomatoes. Maybe some love will linger in the trees, the papaya tree I planted right by your knee. Cucumber and squash, one for each eye, and a banana tree in the center only you can guess why
