AmeliaDarland

last night i thought about swimming in the lake where we poured out my dad: his ashes were completely homogeneous against the rocks emphasizing the fossils by filling in the surface, making it smooth. i can’t stop wondering how they did it, if the rods and screws and plates they’d rebuilt his body with 30 years ago were recycled, and into what? the wind shifted and i felt his eyes on me, briefly. sometimes my anxiety forces me to relive these moments that make my stomach sick with rolling stones - like the summer i was nineteen and i dropped that crate and the corner cracked my toenail in half; or five years ago when i did too