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sawdust piled
up around the legs
of her saw horses, she'd
been working her handsaw
hard, funeral plywood cried it's
sap tears,

working pain in
her shoulders was
less than the pain in
her heart, but she reached
for the veternarian horse linament
anyway, to soothe her muscles,

she aligned
the pieces of
wood, mixed some
sawdust with glue, applied
it, then hammered ten-penny
nails to seal the box, the dog laid
still,

walked to
the aspens,
she knew which
one it was, the one
that big ol' elk rubbed
his antlers on, the aspen
where she carved the arboroglyph, 
she peeled the bark with a sharp knife
she'd been honing for this job, the heart
came off in one piece of a memento bark
shaving,

sawdust piled
up around the legs
of her saw horses, she'd
been working her handsaw
hard, funeral plywood cried it's
sap tears, the dog laid still,

she wrapped
the heart bark in
burlap, set it upon
the sawdust filled burlap
pillow she stitched, nailed
the lid to the coffin shut, the
dog followed her, she lowered
the pine box six feet into the hole
she dug, covered it with dirt, put a
cross on top of the grave and walked
away a lady, she saw the phoenix rise
in the aspens.

Copyright 12/23/2009 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist