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Edward My Father
by Sharon Auberle

Scatter marigolds on their graves, objects the dead
loved, food and drink they enjoyed while alive.

Dia de Los Muertos–day of the dead…
What objects, honey, will you place
on my grave to entice me to return?
In your childhood nothing worked
why would I think you'd want me back now?

You might put dancing shoes there where I lie
or old records, a bottle of scotch, a picture
of your mother–the things I loved
long after I should have stopped.
Look honey, these marigolds–like sunlight

on the lake where we met–before you
before the dark lady, before the days of the dead.
Maybe tonight, sweetheart, when you're safe in sleep
I'll come and tell you that love does not hurt
so badly where we are…

First published: Saturday Nights at the Crystal Ball
published by Cross+Roads Press 2008

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