No Funeral

In the orchard of memory,
a bite out of every apple

Sometimes the past digs me up

I collect the dirt in jars,
I drink the water, I label
all the bones

In the new forest,
the air is eucalyptus – no,
juniper – medicinal
and stinging,
the dragonflies sapphire,
big as a dream

You mourn the girl I was
as if I killed her,
as if I left her
in a field somewhere,
shipwrecked in the dry grass –

I hold her like a sister,
a candle burning
in the room my body makes,
in the round and quiet room of sleep.

Quick Change

There is body in the coat closet in the hall by the front door, body under the bed in plastic bins, a pile in the garage by the recycling bin.