The first time I saw your tombstone was in a picture text: WE LOVE YOU FOREVER engraved in
all-caps. A girl in California calls me BABY and all I can think of is a small animal body: drool,
skin, pee, milk, lamb, petal. When it begins I am not pink or even crying. I AM AN OLD CHILD is
what I keep saying. Like what does that even mean.
The joke is: it’s hard to bury a loved one in Florida without hitting limestone. A plank snaps;
another girl calls a cemetery HAUNT GRASS and I like that. The deli where I work is cursed. I
want a girl who calls heaven a scam. SO VERY SORRY people say. How much is very?