William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

The One My Father Used

You ask what happens when we die,

I say the weather’s fine and the soil’s warming nicely.

You ask how to make good garden compost,

I say yes, that’s it exactly.

What’s it? you want to know.

I say the dirt between your toes, the ever changing clouds.

You say you hate to leave it all behind.

I say try this shovel, it’s the one my father used.


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Categories: Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet

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