The Easiest Death You Can Give Me

I loved you badly at best. Still, I want to hear

the story again. Tell it slowly, make it last. Tell me

how we will get married

by the ocean, at your aunt's

house in Cornwall. Describe once more the pebble

beach you'll carry me over

until we reach a threshold borrowed

for custom's sake. How you'll wrap my train

around your wrist like a ribbon.

Remind me of the afternoon we ate fat ripe peaches

under the market's bright awning

and happiness pierced us like scissors.

Take a pencil and teach me again how to write

our city's name in Japanese.

(Not one bit of this is merciful. No one's

kidding anyone else.) Touch my hair again and say

we should have children. Someone

to bury us, someone to sound out our names.