my mom’s tombstone by Makenna Dykstra
CW: Death

took three years to lay
and fends off the worms of 5 states west
the walks i take keep leaving me
at the cemeteries a few blocks down
in new orleans, graves are above ground
because after centuries of slow drowning
the water leaves the dead
to another kinder element
a sign i pass says
welcome to the garden and amid
the rows of crumbling marble
i catch myself looking for peonies i never laid
growing season was spring
and undead i buried myself
hoping the wet would force
the hand of time and i’d wake to flowers around me
carried to waste and left
as kindle for the cats of the bardo
crumbs of the spirits
cannot offer enough sustenance for survival
but we dare nevertheless
look angels in their stony bloodshot eyes
and assume some semblance of similarity
the highest insult remains anthropomorphism
after all, have you ever noticed
that human’s most generous gift
to each other and the rest
is our ruinous leftovers?
even grief forsakes itself for plant
all flowers remain buds
Makenna Dykstra (she/her) is twenty years old and currently an undergraduate student at Tulane University in New Orleans. This fall, she will be pursuing an MA in English Literature also at Tulane. She can most often be found in the local parks, writing, reading, or admiring the oak trees, though tonight she will be making lasagna.