Our daughter is one and a half

You have been dead eleven days

I got on the boat and came to the place

Where the three of us were going to build our house

If you had lived

You died though

So I came here alone with our baby and the dust of your bones

I can't remember, were you into Canada geese?

Is it significant

These hundreds on the beach?

Or were they just hungry

For mid-migration sea****?

What about foxgloves

Is that a flower you liked?

I can't remember

You did most of my remembering for me

And now I stand untethered

In a field full of wild foxgloves

Wondering if you're there

Or if a flower means anything

And what could anything mean

In this cru****ng absurdity

I brought a chair from home

I'm leaving it on the hill

Facing west and north

And I poured out your ashes on it

I guess so you can watch the sunset

But the truth is I don't think of that dust as you

You are the su