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Buried Ash
by
Bob Bradshaw
A cold rain plummets
through me. The sea
after a storm leaves its trash
where we walked.
Without you everything
has changed.
Every school boy knows
that we die. But
I wasn't prepared
for your departure.
There are oily rags
to explain spontaneous
combustion. What
explains your
unexpected
ash?
It's as if my heart
has been anesthetized.
I feel nothing
when looking out
at the Pacific
that you loved.
The only flowers
in the world are those
on your grave. Soon those too
will disappear,
and I'll find your vase,
like my life,
empty. 
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