Only once did he ever throw a dollar coin in, and that was a moment.
Tag: grief
In Grains
The warmth is lovely. The terror of investigation into my pre-teen crushes is not.
Inheritance of the Womb
My vessel no longer commissionable to holding anything I don’t choose.
Among Graves
Things end. Life ends. And that feels peaceful and hopeful to me.
The Politics of In-Laws
He wore those slippers until they split at the lip, wore down the heels to holes.
Aquamarine Dream
You handed me a mineral, and I still carry it with me in the daylight of awake.
Thirteen Years Later
“Hi, Jon,” I said. When I heard you answer back—using my name— I lost all composure. I cried, because you were one of the only ones who ever said my name with love.
The Halls of the Heart
I imagine I wouldn’t leave if I ever stepped into one in person. How could I abandon what has already changed me— what has built an inner sanctum from its very presence?
Laid to Ashes
You blew into my mouth then, and I swallowed, because spitting seemed like an insult.
Small Grace
The coin says, you are paid in full and can leave here without fear and get where you are going. It is a small grace for helping loved ones cross over.
Jasmine on the Grave 