We buried him beneath the oak

He always liked it there, with the tangled roots and yesterdays spilled wine

I think it was warm

I can’t remember now – my hand against his wrist was ice

Fingers trailing soft lines of blue and frost.

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I saw his ghost again last night and wished it away

What is dead stays dead and I don’t want him haunting me.

Oak leaves blew and fell and died in musty earth, passing

I avoided the hill and its tree and its secret

Walking the lower fields and watching the sky for signs of fire

Met instead with white and burning winter

A shock to a mind steeped in autumn

I would have thought it’d stay forever – stuck in his season

He never let me out of his sight.

I hated him then and hate him now – but I am naked without his eyes.

A winter moon hides the stone in drifts of silver

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There is no movement, no breath of wind, no change in pattern

I saw his ghost again this morning

I stayed still, crouched beneath the frozen pines

And with a cry and stumble felt his eyes and knew

He wasn’t looking for me.

But I buried him myself, muscles straining in frustration, battling the earth

It didn’t want to take him

But I fed him to the soil like a poison

Hoping he would stay

Hoping the figure at my side uttering a prayer would leave us and forget.

I don’t know what she prayed for but it overrode my own

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So I’m haunting him as he haunts her

Winter screaming a reminder I’m alive

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I saw his ghost again last night and wished that it would stay

What is dead stays dead and I don’t want him haunting me

But better me than her and if I can’t escape so be it.

I’m running, twisted, lost in snow

And I buried him in autumn.