I open up the urn and pour the ashes into the flowerpot
An orchid grows a petal then grows a limb that becomes a leg
The stem vibrates into a hum
I water it till the hum becomes a song
Until the pollen becomes his face
Until the pot cracks and out comes a suede slipper
And out comes a wool sweater
I pick my mother from her empty bed and turn all her white hairs black
I make it 1989
I make it July 15th
I make it New Orleans
And now
here I am, sitting in the pew
“I do”
“I do”