These Four Walls

just visiting

in the car
sat next to my mother
sweating along to the country songs on the radio
my toenails scrape against the bottoms of my shoes
as i scuff the them against the worn carpeting
the car smells like very berry hibiscus
and black coffee that reminds me
of a place before they were gone

at the cemetery
it feels wrong to be alive
and i make sure not to step
directly onto the headstones
because the horror movies always warn
me of hands coming up through the dirt

but i can't
help but to think of how nice
it would be to be held by my great grama
one last time
even if i got dirt in my eyes
it would be nice to see her again

i'm sorry that
i didn't go near her coffin
i remember his funeral too
though i don't know how many years ago
it happened to be
i cried the hardest
and i remember at her funeral
how my mom and sister were talking about how
proud they were that neither of them cried
like i did
and i felt small and weak and childish
but also
painfully human

i find that
it is easier to think of the cemetery
as more of a library for the dead
because most of them are as old
as the dewey decimal system
and i'm just pawing through the card catalogs
looking for a hand to hold

your parents are
under the c category
c for classen
c for caring
c for compassion
c for clarity
c for cherished memories
c for come back