“Misha” by Gudrun Bortman published in Fireweed, released in Oct 2018 by The Poetry Box.

Misha

that winter     you asked me   to scatter
your ashes in my garden             sheltered
under the big oak’s branches at the canyon edge
& I promised
lightly—
thinking that time still far away.

That spring   one day in March     they handed you
to me        heavy
in the zip-lock bag           hidden       inside
a velvet satchel.

I took you to my house           & kept you
tucked into that wooden box you loved,
carved with horses
& waited
ambivalent about who we had been together.

And then the fire came           mingled
ash with ash
till rain & wind disturbed
the frothy layers      & I found a small heap
gritty         rose-grey             flecked
with flakes of bone.

I shoveled you as best I could       carried you
to the old oak           now charred
spread you around the blackened trunk
and sat with you         and asked forgiveness