Of course it would be a wedding
where I would see you first –
cause for celebration.

In trunk of my car: a gift for you.
Cold truth settles softly
like falling snow,

mounting awareness,
and I know mine is a gift
of the heart, frozen in time,
you will never open.

After the reception you will
drive all night to Arkansas. I
will follow Orion home, blissfully
unaware of pain you so carefully

gift-wrapped will soon be delivered

in awful open casket
I can never close.

It should have been a funeral
where I would see you last –
cause for consolation.