Gravedigger

[perchance]

I buried your jaw in my backyard.
People think the trees are talking.
When they ask, I say nothing,
or, Just the wind.
I do not flinch or laugh nervously,
though nothing grows here,
and the neighborhood kids
think I’m a witch.
I’ve heard their stories:
under the full moon with a mason jar,
my hands turning soft the soil
like spades.
They’re not far off.
The moon was full
– yes –
and I used my hands,
but I carried your jaw in the hammock
of my nightgown;
tenderly;
like a lover who still loved your memory
because that is what I was –
what I will always be.
The children are too young to know
what it’s like to want to forgive,
but to not be able to.
The girls come back though,
one by one, when they’re older;
peering over my fence, holding this
or that; tenderly;
and suddenly they’re no longer afraid of me.
I am the one who shows them how to bury their dead.

[Chessgirl]

I loved this one. Told a story but also kept the reader curious.

[Crow]

Hi perchance,

This is amazing! So well crafted. In my view right now, this is my favourite poem on this site that I have read... unbelievably captivating. This is on another level! This is the sort of thing I would love to be able to write.
You have a real gift there.

Crow

[perchance]

Thanks for your comments, guys! Writing is definitely one of my passions and something I've done for quite some time. I'm trying to make more time for it since becoming a mom (I have a two year old now, so things are kind of hectic always) but your sweet messages made me smile