by Adrienne Dyane Lewis
“No one has ever proved the dead can’t read poems.”
- Jonathan Wilks
I would like my tombstone to have a poem on it.
His words, etched in rough granite
for all time. I will read them
over and over. Ethereal, I will pass
into the sense of us they carve out, settle in the essence
of who I was to him. In this life,
I cannot begin to rest
in his expressions, let them alight my being
for too long. I have held on to the need for concrete
assurances of fidelity, Semper Fi,
and the ways in which corporeal love chisels
the certainty of its existence.