June Henry - burial
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It’s been eight days since the explosion
I’m nestled in a crater in a Wal-Mart parking lot
One of the Fiat 500’s hubcaps sits atop my head
Embedded slightly in my scalp
My informal coronation is complete
You approach
You ask me about fire
"I know all about that,” I say
And I light your cigarette with the singed corner of my undershirt
We talk for a while about ambition
About identity
About the explosion
I say too much
You listen too intently
I have given myself away yet again
I’ve already forgotten what put me in this crater in the first place
You crawl in beside me
“There’s not enough room in here", I think
I do not say it out loud
There’s not enough room in here
My body is pressed into the concrete
I’m nestled in a crater in a Wal-Mart parking lot
One of the Fiat 500’s hubcaps sits atop my head
Embedded slightly in my scalp
My informal coronation is complete
You approach
You ask me about fire
"I know all about that,” I say
And I light your cigarette with the singed corner of my undershirt
We talk for a while about ambition
About identity
About the explosion
I say too much
You listen too intently
I have given myself away yet again
I’ve already forgotten what put me in this crater in the first place
You crawl in beside me
“There’s not enough room in here", I think
I do not say it out loud
There’s not enough room in here
My body is pressed into the concrete
