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This mourning I took a wish stone and held it in my mouth
weighing the viciousness of a world without you in it, Quintin.
What does it mean us sparked aminos killing each other over
killing each other; repetition so often nature’s loveliest the sweep
of glaciers the same ripples in a child’s splash pad but this, this.
I did not bury the stone your body I pushed it into the fist of a rose,
rubbed it with rain, laid it to crown a bed of moss, overgrown,
swallowing plastic: this morning’s prayer to swallow us all.