To The Ground

A nurtured weed
Where bodies become
fertilizer.
(He becomes
a black mist).
Smoke without any blood.
— C10H14N2, Nicotine

Wrapped in white casing
They unfold into Blackness
Into him.
Merely cooked, not burned.
Yet.
— Medium Rare

“Why can’t he talk or move?”
Silence.
Not a gun not a knife not a car crash
He became that black mist, smoke
(but without any blood)
— Stained

They say he had colored eyes
Green.
I remember the sounds of machines whirring.
I do not remember his eyes.
They were closed shut.
They say he had a warm voice.
Deep.
Yearned for.
Like rain in a desert.
I do not remember his voice.
I remember being afraid
to go near that blank body
It took all his breath.
— Memory

With 16 years plugged in to the hospital walls
Walls made of cement
Cement made to stay
Even before I was born
We were waiting for that cement to dissolve
— Barrier

What if I could be it
He loved spending time with it
Leading him by his hands
His rough, wrinkled, worked hands
What if I could be the one in his grip
I could get broad green leaves that would be dried out and rolled up
Rolled up tight in his breathing hands at least once
— Grasp

Breathe in
Breathe out
Breathe in
Breathe out
Breath in the toxic smoke
and let it take your lungs.
— Air

I was too late
No
It wasn’t me
Maybe I–
No
It wasn’t me
I should have–
No
— Goodbye