Disposing of the dead

I thought we'd sent you to the winds in a spray of acceptance
After which we all went our ways and made our days without you.

But who knew I had mummified and stashed you beneath the floorboards
Of my inmost name? Not even I, not even I, until

My own end loomed at last and I was forced to ruminate
And try to locate that inmost name so long forgotten, so draped with shame.

In a rage of remembrance I ripped away the door to your tomb
And found you cast in that terrified last gaze at life,

Staring straight at me with lips shaped as a why
And fingers curled around your last will and testament:

I am only a boy with no power and you are a man with intentions.
I scream for help while you pray for deliverance.

Welcome to my world, man of intentions, man of ambitions and science and health.
Now recompense me and take me away from this musty redoubt of your name.

Dispose of me now, in the fire of your love, in the sneeze of your passion,
In the flood of your tears, in the soil of your hopes, in the

Mist of the history of good people doing bad things
In spite of intentions.

Let me go so we both can live, you for now and me for then.
Exhume your curse, make dust of dust so we won't meet again.