Mom and I see the headstone. Salmon, just as we chose. Smooth on top and along the sides, it emerges from a rough base of the same hue. Scattered grass grows on the flattened earth six feet in front of it.
We remove the in-ground matching vases. Struggle to insert the simple bouquets we bought at A&P. Water them.
A Burgundy flower bows and touches the foot of the monument at the space where my brother’s name will go someday.
Wind-chime melody
how still in the sun
our flowers
first published in Image Curve, October 15, 2014
for dVerse Poets Tuesday Poetics – Touch me (pubtended by Sarah)
Frank J. Tassone 
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