A Bed of Grass

The prickly grass accepts me

the sun shines brightly, its rays

warming my bed of green.


My winter bleached skin welcomes this bath of light.

I could be easy here,

but the cool, damp earth underneath the hot blades

reminds me that the frost has only recently



I stretch myself  long

pointing my toes towards his bed

I don’t have time for you today

and then

my fingers brush the smooth stone.


I roll towards your resting place,

Elbows planted, feet in the air, fingers tracing

the gilted numbers of your days.



the only place that reminds me that you were once alive.

Twelve years is long enough to forget that I ever called you daddy.

I come to your grave,

I stare at your name,

and I force myself to remember.


Six feet below me

lying just as I am,

there you are.


An ant nudges my arm.

He tests me, weighs me as he calls to his army.

Tickling my skin he takes his measurements.


Can he carry me away?

Will he march me down into their deep, dark hole?


I watch his progress

mesmerized by his movements.

He runs suddenly from the water dripping off my hand.

I am distracted by the tears gathering at my chin.


I rise disturbing the circling black body.

I brush the dirt, the tears, and the pain away.

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