OUTLASTING ASH

RILEY HART

 

The dust, between
            its glimmering sighs,
waits for you to join
            it. One day, all of us
will finally wake up,
 
and the sequoias
            will never have existed,
and the lemongrass
            will have forgotten
your name. Together
            we will dissolve,
 
one continuous string
            of yellowing moonlight.
What relief: vanishing
            into a wink of white,
no fragments of bone
            left in the dirt.
 
 

∘∘∘