a conversation

moaning across her stone,

i asked God for a sign --
something to assure me
that her spirit was not shoved
under the ground with her tiny body --

that she continues to exist,
that she does not end here,
and neither do we.

i wiped the salt stains off my glasses,
unable to pry my knees off the cemetery ground
collapsed into my love for her,
not wanting to get up, to leave her, to keep going.

and a fucking ant crawled up my pants
and bit me on the ass.

and i thought,"...okay…i’ll take it."