i remember seeing Rose die
her eyes went 
and turned up
i felt her last exhale and 
rise

on her head board
shadows of her 
butterfly decals 
on her sliding glass door 
fluttered.

immediately it felt odd 
to be there without her.
suddenly i no longer belonged
without her.

i looked through the sliding glass
at the little green mountain
i'd been hours ago picking watercress 
from a lush stream 
bringing them to her faded eyes
then to her nose
when she sighed and said
lovely.

i remember sitting there feeling dense.
no watercress, no Rose.
lapsed, unmourning. 

i remember wishing she was still dying.
the next tenant was already at the door
an indian girl with a white sage bundle
to smoke Rose out.

was it spring
like now, is that why i'm remembering.

remembering and slowly mourning 
in spring.

mourning like the sound of the dove a good thing.
mourning in spring.
i climb a little tree 
looking behind
looking below
looking on 
my love.