‘a dozen roses’

If the darkness takes you—
it may not have me.
If you are gone and I could follow,
I will not. We’ll get there someday.
That’s how breath goes. Out.
But for now there are too many patches of dust,
pages, and backs of skulls
that need your name graffittied on them.
If I don’t water them
how will the flowers grow?
For you, I will stand on this ground
that you are under. I will look
—up, out, in. For me,
I will stand on this ground.