ash

this will pass
like lilac wandering
down the slope
carrying the scent of shadow
over the rutted grass
and lavender burning
in the heat
by the steps

this will go
like spring rising
in the ghost of the frost
over the wet dirt
like fall snapping
in the cracked night air
and sauntering through
the dry grass

this will fade
like the driveway
to a slight loosening
in the shoulders
right before the turn

my fingers are black with memory
I swear I can clasp
the worlds that went down
in the soft grip of ash
on my tongue