Memori

the day of my death

i did three things

three things for you to remember

to remind you why we used our special pronoun

us

i organized the icecream in the freezer

in neat stacks

with their pint sized labels 

slid to the side so you couldn't read them

without squinting

and then i labeled them

the way you eat them.

"two in the morning-you can finish that paper"

on the double dutch chocolate

"life is still simple-look how you made it today!"

on the cookies and cream

"go buy more icecream. you hate this"

on the vanilla that neither of us eat.

 

i bought you a printer's worth

of photo paper

and three cartridges of ink

and eight scrapbooks

because you hate looking at computers

for too long

and kodak employees make you nervous

the way they flip through

your private moments to kill time

also a good black pen

to write notations without bleeding through

or splotching the page

which irritates you to no end

i underlined all the quotes

in my favorite book

that remind me of you

even though i know you insist

that you are nothing like him

that wild eyed rochester

with his heavy hand and stabbing wit

but still i insist with your careful love

your quick anger when i hobble myself

and your roaring declaration

that the world may stand against 

but i will be yours. and only. forever

rings through these pages too

i tuck it under your pillow 

i do these three things

on the day of my death

to comfort you, to remind you,

because this is the unspeakable crime

to divide us into i

and you, left behind

but remember this.

i will be yours. and only yours. forever.

on the day of my death

i do three things for you

and then one more

for me, and me only,

i watch the sunset quiet in my chair

and i do not call you

to say goodbye

i know you know i love you.

and i cannot say goodbye.