Since I went to your grave that day
I keep imagining things now
What happens six feet under
Maggots, decaying, and the like
I am prone to gore, I don’t mind
But those parts they removed earlier
Discarded with medical waste
You were not buried whole
It makes comprehension difficult
This concept of peace, resting in it
When you’re scattered
Heaven even knows where
But you lived scattered too
A missing tooth, surgery for eyes
Some very horrendous toenails
None of it made you any less
Yet, I keep going back to peace
Wondering about you having it
Wishing I was a little more dense
Wishing I would wonder less