Little Graves
On not having the right words for my baby sister.
“I don’t feel alive right now.” And we don’t need to talk about it. I just reach across the table And set down a slice of the orange I have peeled for you. My fingernails have become little rinds By removing the threads and pith It takes time, But we have our whole lives And an orange is easy to make perfect. When I saw the first butterfly of the season I took a photo of her for you. In a few months, Summer will come. The concrete will hum with excitement. We will drag our fingers Stained and sticky with joy Through warm, salty water That cajoles us While we lay in the shallows. I will make chains of chickpea And white clover, And if you find a fleeced dandelion You will let me make the wish. We will leave a trail of popped sea grapes behind us. When we were children, I taught you To unspool oranges from their skins. I taught you how to shape the loose rind Around the ghost of the orange After we had eaten it. I taught you to bury the orange peel Under the sand And to place a shell as a headstone. The terpenes wafted off of our hands As we laid the oranges to rest. I go for walks in the city often, And when I pass a dead monarch Or wren or bumble bee I build a shrine off the sidewalk. I move the sweet thing with a pair of twigs, Carefully, low to the ground. Then I crouch And lay the twigs to either side of the body. I nudge the splayed wings Back to rest. I surround the body with what I can scavenge Near the street in the city: Milkweed and bunches of spurge, A tulip petal, A bouquet of small daisies. I cover the whole thing with the biggest leaf I can find. I leave it to rest. I taught you this too, once, To notice the passing of little things Which are apart from us but not completely. You do not feel alive right now. I press an orange slice into your hand And hold it there, for a beat Pulse to pulse. We are both here, Eating an orange together. Not feeling alive, maybe, But laying it to rest.



Taylor: Whenever I read your writing I have a visceral reaction, my brain stuttering to process.
"You do not feel alive right now.
I press an orange slice into your hand
And hold it there, for a beat
Pulse to pulse."
Wow.