BPR 53 | 2026
The Blue Dress—died on August 6,
2015, along with the little blue
flowers, all silent. Once the petals
looked up. Now small pieces of dust.
I wonder whether they burned the
dress or just the body? I wonder who
lifted her up into the fire? I wonder
if her hair brushed his cheek before it
grew into a bonfire? I wonder what
sound the body made as it burned?
They dyed her hair for the funeral,
too black. She looked like a comic
character. I waited for the next comic
panel, to see the speech bubble and
what she might say. But her words
never came and we were left with the
stillness of blown glass. The
irreversibility of rain. And millions
of little blue flowers. Imagination is
having to live in a dead person’s
future. Grief is wearing a dead
person’s dress forever.
from OBIT, Copper Canyon Press, 2020