Burial Poem By Rebecca McClanahan

Burial Poem By Rebecca McClanahan

Like a sister who borrows
a blouse without asking,
the earth slipped
the ring from my finger
as I worked the soil
our first married spring
when your leaving
was a seed planted
beneath my knowing.
I dug among roots,
white tendrils, my emptied
hand snaking deep.
Months later
when the seed sprouted
there was nothing
left of you to remove.
The bare finger,
wore the shape,
of absence, pale,
ring of flesh the sun
was slow to touch.

Burial Poem By Rebecca McClanahan

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