Left holding the bag again
Or box, as it so happens
A container of dust
That is not really him
*
Okay it’s true the person is gone
Their spirit and essence
Does not reside in this unworthy cube
of generic black plastic
*
I inherited
The u-shaped outline
From the seat of his greasy work pants
On my cane kitchen chairs
*
I inherited
The burned cord
Of my brand new mini-chopper
When he draped it across the lit burner
*
What I have left
Are photos and laughable memories
Quotes cerebral
And this box of gray ashes
*
Some people don’t care what happens
With their own remains
Or anyone else’s
Well, good for you
*
Let this be my thing, okay?
Tough shit
If you don’t like how I grieve
*
The way I see it
These shards of a brother’s bones
Deserve the honor of loving placement
As a rite of passage
*
How many times would he laugh and say he didn’t care
Then tell me
In a moment of earnest
With eyes shining
“I know you’ll take care of it”
~*~
Sounds like true feelings well said. In earnest. Who could say this better.
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