Unburied

I drive around with my mother’s ashes when I’m lonely

palming the box

tapping my fingers on the sides as Patsy Cline sings love songs I will always cry along to

asking my mother in a voice just above a whisper at stop signs

or red lights

if I’ll be okay

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We Turn

to threats to discover one another, navigate

how we might react.

An indication of how we might

say things later

when it’s 3 am

on a Tuesday

and we’ve been drinking since

Sunday.