by Ashton Wronikowski
On the day we buried forever,
we went shopping for the casket.
Mahogany, walnut, maple,
each grain and groove gleaming
under the staging lights,
too beautiful to belong
in the ground.
You paused at one only three feet long,
eyes held by the satin interior
promising a safe sleep
free of monsters.
I remember forever being that small—
too scared to let her go, we kept indoors.
We built her blanket forts
and mastered make believe,
making sure the blinds were drawn,
so she wouldn’t have a reason to crack a window.
Maybe that’s why we lost her.
After she grew out of our arms,
we tried to wrap her in “maybe’s”
and “what ifs”
and “we can make it work”
stretching and
reaching and
telling ourselves
we were all she needed
The mortician offered his condolences.
“There’s nothing worse than losing
someone before their time. I’m sorry
you don’t get to see the life
they would’ve lived.”
I’ll never know if he meant it,
eyeing the casket in the rearview.
Tragedy makes a great sales pitch.
We found a spot for her,
soft grass whispering,
a willow tree promising to
keep her safer than we could.
We had shovels
but I wanted to claw at the ground,
encrust my nails with dark earth,
tear my knuckles on jagged rocks,
bruise my palms wrenching up roots
deep as our wounds…
sewn deeper than we would ever see.
We started to fill her box with all we had left—
you put in the coffee mug
whose porcelain cradled my kiss,
I laid in the t-shirt that had
you woven in the thread.
Piece by piece, we laid us to rest,
not just what we had,
but what we never would.
Dog collars.
Ring boxes.
Tiny shoes.
I made you close the lid,
another act of selfishness,
and began pushing the dirt back home.
Every thud
a nail,
a period,
a bullet
tearing through her, and us,
and what we could’ve been.
There are days when I wish I could dig her up,
to cradle her bones and stroke her hair,
to play dress up and have
just five more minutes.
But my nails are finally clean of earth,
my knuckles scabbed over
and my palms faded yellow.
so I’ll let the willow
keep his promise
from the day we were buried forever.