I Can't Even Tell

I can’t even tell

That the grass was

Dug up

Beside my father’s

Headstone, to lay

My mother to rest

Beside him;

Only six weeks since

We gave up.

There are no more

Scars in the Earth and

Grass under the willow

Tree which weeps over

His stone.  Her grave has no

Stone yet to make it real,

To shake my

Dream state denial.

But her empty house, my

Empty-ache heart, and my

Unheard phone calls

To Mom

Are more than real enough

Wounds for now.