six stone deep
i buried her baby
because she’d walked asleep-
for fear she’d dig it up maybe
it died in early spring
the flowers had just budded
i took it in the night
planted it softly mudded
then a month went by-
then two; then half a year
by winter’s end I found
a tree was living there
she saw the tree that grew
she kept it in her sight
last thing, before she slept
she’d kiss the tree goodnight
would greet the tree each day
and kiss it’s tiny bower
one day in early spring
there bloomed the palest flower
she plucked it wet with dew
and took it to her room
when she didn’t appear again
i found her there at noon
they buried her the same way
her hands upon her chest
the bloom upon her face
fast to her lips was pressed