The rabbits eat in the dark. They nibble on the grass above your grave.
I had toffee in my mouth when you died. Jaw aching from chewing, caramel between my teeth. The tall doctor told me that I had a pretty mouth. I told him that my parents had paid a lot of money for my smile. He said, ‘It’s nice to see a bright smile amongst the mayhem for a change.’
It’s four in the morning and I’m alone with the rabbits again. Rabbits and soil. The doctor told me that I can’t lay above your cradle forever. He said, ‘It’s not like he’s really down there.’
'I’ll be with you,' I told you before you went. 'I’ll be with you.'