can I lay my head on your tomb
can I speak, will you hear my voice
I’ll speak anyway
not like I have a choice
can I carve my name
into your grave
it’ll be solace when
I’m feral and depraved
why do I ask
you put yourself to bed
you won’t see
because you’re dead
did you get the poems
I sent them to you
on my dirty knees
with a cardboard flu
I wept on them
do you feel the tears
a memento I guess
to those unspent years
I’m better now
I think…
you might like to know
that’s what I think
the time will mold
the rock will split
our bodies will turn
back to shit
but that wasn’t how
I wanted it
I can no longer
sit vainly on your tomb
it’s not for me
I’m through with the doom
I’ll leave your grave
with a full bloom
I was always warm
on the cusp of the mountain
bundled up with you
your haiku