Droppings

Your headstone lies hidden

in tall grass and deer shit.

Sinking and shrinking

as sunsets erase you,

even my love for you 

crumbles with time.

The inscription weary

of wrestling the weather,

it rests under pine cones 

and droppings

from birds in the trees.

I don’t tidy up. 

I know you don’t mind.

published in Entropy