Last night we wrapped you in green. Today we buried you. I bury you with two stones and a poem. For years I carried those stones everywhere. I slept with them in my hands, I clutched them as I ran, I made love with them. Two stones and a poem - I lay them by your heart. Two stones and a poem - and a handful of soil. Soil over your body, soil over you. Just before the end, with whim, I ran to my room, and I grabbed that bulbous stone he had given me.  He had found it when we were planting last winter. He was digging, He placed it in my hands and said, “Here, a stone for your stones.” He had not minded making love beside my stones. Now he is far away and I wonder if I love him. I had to let go of this notion of love, It is just time to let go. I release him, I release you. I surrender my heart. I no longer know where and how to contain love. Here I bury you with soil. Above you I plant succulents, and lay my hair.

Last night I floated in the silver waters of the sea. I dreamt of the moon. She hung vast, above and below me. My heart was the moon. And so the moon was mine, at last. My soul left my body. Where she ventured, I do not know, I have not asked her. But she has returned. I did not lose myself. My body swayed within his waves.