rose's ashes

the cremator put her in a metal box still hot from the oven 

no hinges no door 

i opened it with a can opener

she sat on my lap for the first and last time 

climbing a big hill in a small car

her ashes clung to my fingers and blew in my hair

a cup of her i put in the fairy hollow of an arbutus tree

i felt perfunctory 

i felt dispersed