At the burial ground, I stood over you –
My face flushed, fingertips iced
I hear your name
and remember how you know me
as I know you —
or perhaps as only absence knows.

I feel your corset pulling on my waist
Scratches left behind
I watch filth dissolve into buckets
Hands battered from endless washing
Though my feet remain the same
As Israel awaited manna, so too,
I await you