Conversation

no one says anything

later, we forget
exactly where the grave was
if that's not too grand a name for it

a scrabbled hole in sun-cracked soil
scraped with sticks
and the rusty trowel we found

dusty tiny corpse

did we all dream something
in that blasting heat
reddened and irritable
but still capable
of hope

perhaps that shadow of quick wings -
remembering through act -
that fever dream wasn't mine alone
and so worth something

#Poetry #Writing #vss365Today prompt - 11th December - volant.