burying him by the tree
my spade cuts through
old roots

passing bus
the smile in the window
with me all day

morning quiet
shoveling
cats' paw prints

these same hands
holding her
ashes

twilight
a pumpkin picker double-pats
the side of the truck

Arryhthmerica

pumpkins
mushed with frost . . .
the tip of his first tooth

brittle leaves
we workshop
death poems

fish-hook eyes
we take turns retying
his memory

snowy night standing at the fridge shirtless

we blow through
another small-print town
dust devils

hospital gown
what insurance covers
and doesn't

they spit
like little men
little league

a flower's identity
uncovered by an app
experian data breach

snow day Mom finishes my caveman diorama

ICU
the fragments and phrases
of your breath

afternoon snow
telling time by
vinyl records

funeral song
we have different names
for him