SISTER

The river is over it's banks.
The streets are flooded.
The room where you used to sleep
has water at the threshold.
We took some of the ashes
to your place in Savannah.
Some of them we dropped
from the middle of Golden Gate.
The rest we buried in the garden
at Mike's place in Laguna
where we saw you last
looking like your bones had almost won
their long battle with the lovely flesh
of your body.
And poor Mike,
that everyone always thought
was just an asshole,
standing there near you
suddenly seeing you
through our strange eyes
burst out crying.
Marianne,
you should see the river
you should see the water
how it's taking over everything.