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cages and cases
of starving birds and dead things
no longer look anything like they did
when they'd been living

the things you love
you put into cement
in order to keep them
they have to be dead
you think that he's yours
but it's only in your head
his coffin is not your arms
his grave is not your bed

lockets and caskets
full of garbage and ashes
nothing but collections of nothing
you've been protecting

taking baths in concrete
harbor a love for things that don't exist
try to set into stone
but you can't
he's made of bones and flesh

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