The Ash Pot

 

The ash pot long sat

Filled with final memories and

Tears from heaven.

It was a heavy part of

The last moments shared

Before her trip to the ER.

I struggled to empty it

And I sobbed while Jeff

Held the trash bag open.

Freshly cut pain. And I

Sit here smoking a cigarette 

And lamenting putting

Her stubs into the garbage.

This is part of the bad vibes -

The good and horrid memories 

Splattered in every room.

I don't want to paint

Or sort shit or do an addition. 

I want to let it sit

Like the ash can

Until fate slaps me with ultimatums

Beyond my control.

So I empty the fucking ash can

And strip the walls of 

Bold yellow ownership and

 Nod to the plan to repair the

God-damned upstairs bath.