San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly

ROSE ANNA HINES
Gardener’s Burial

Earth to earth

ashes to ashes.

When I leave this garden

may my blood and bone

feed the earth.

Grow exotic fungi,

or sharp bitty watercress for crisp salads.

Or sweet drip-juice-all-over-your t-shirt apricots

or purple ruffle basil for pesto sauce and linguini.

Or peanuts for some child’s peanut-butter and jelly sandwich

or lavender for Drakkar Noir

to touch some rugged man’s face

and haunt a woman’s dreams.

Or plain grass for some cat or dog to eat.

or pansies, daffodils  and roses

to inspire a van Gogh or Okeef.

Or a pesky weed that grows

regardless of how often it is pulled

and how dry it seems to get

and doesn’t let concrete or cursing stop it.