I think about the length of the box that you rest in,
And the silk that lines it.
You hated silky things.
I think about how
You would have called this coffin
“Pissy shit”.
I think about your aunt,
The gym teacher,
And how I knew you
Better than she did.
I think about death,
And how you probably were
Not even scared at the end.
I think about life,
And how I thought
You were only halfway done
When He took you from us.
I remember the time
The gardener passed,
And you told me that God
Needed her in Heaven.
I remember how we used to talk
About spreading our ashes in space.
I remember you wanting to travel
To see the world.
And I feel all the small details,
That I never knew were stored in my heart space.
zander foster poetry 