Our daughter is one and a half You have been dead eleven days I got on the boat and came to the place Where the three of us were going to build our house If you had lived You died though So I came here alone with our baby and the dust of your bones I can't remember, were you into Canada geese? Is it significant These hundreds on the beach? Or were they just hungry For mid-migration seaweed? What about foxgloves Is that a flower you liked? I can't remember You did most of my remembering for me And now I stand untethered In a field full of wild foxgloves Wondering if you're there Or if a flower means anything And what could anything mean In this crushing absurdity I brought a chair from home I'm leaving it on the hill Facing west and north And I poured out your ashes on it I guess so you can watch the sunset But the truth is I don't think of that dust as you You are the sunset