Untitled

You chip away the name
as if only half of you lie below that gravestone
a mirror image breathing and hearing
an echo of you, I heard the sound too

You awoke,
the dead still love you,
the worship of the words
words which left your throat,
but had no air
they had breath
without thought

Enough to cough, or dream
and make music in your mind
mirror of this, her face, the rainfall
on the dirt
forever struggling to dig itself out