“900 lbs of words”
Below the flimsy cardboard backs
of my yellow notebook,
I bury you.
I sketch on the paper in #2 pencil:
five tiny honey bees, one turquoise dragon fly,
dandelions in bloom and ones ready to be blown,
freshly shaved grass and the overgrown weeds
by your headstone;
Loose dirt, wet worms, tight dirt, dry worms,
fragments of an 18th century tea set,
cross sections of pine, lace, skin, and bones.
Beneath nine hundred pounds of words,
I bury you,
just shy of a ton.
And I am sad to say,
but you cannot rest just yet.
I still have empty pages to fill
and my #2 pencil has plenty more lead.