By Aleah Dye
I’ll trade ashes
with you.
The two of us
are already together,
sweat, skin, teeth,
tears,
so why not
the rest?
When
we are dead
and gone,
I’ll still want
to hold your hand.
It could be
now,
pink flesh dripping,
cheap funeral pyre
in isolation.
Author:
Aleah Dye (she/her) primarily writes poetry, tending towards topics of morbidity, love, social justice, and philosophy. She specializes in the free verse Whitman pioneered. You can find Dye’s published book, If I Just Look Hard Enough, for purchase on Amazon and Sweek. Discover her latest publication via mineral lit mag. Follow her @bearsbeetspoet on Twitter.
This poem is a part of the DISTANCED project.
ang(st) 