Burn

I put your name on a piece of paper,
in ink
on the back of a list.
Lit it,
and watched the smoke curl towards the sky.

A prayer, a whisper.
I want my memories to go,
go to a place where they're safe
to sleep like silent dogs.

In years past, I burned (in no particular order):
Your picture
The roses
Your picture
The letter

I packed the ashes into the tomato plants,
took the tool and turned it slow.
And laid back down to feel the spaces
in between the grass.