Dumping the Ashes



Dumping the Ashes


The night she died the moon was full

and the wisteria in bloom.


My sister and I drove

from California to Colorado


with mother’s ashes

in the back seat of the car


packed in a tin

inside a small brown box.


We took her to a bridge

over the South Platte River.


Just at sunset it started to rain.

Her ashes didn’t scatter


when my sister tilted the tin,

they fell in one big clump.


O Mom I’m sorry!

my sister yelled.


I laughed.

I’d say she jumped.

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