Tonight is the night
when the dust of bones
beneath cold tombstones
            Remembers.

They remember.
They remember when
their bones had skin.
And they weren’t buried
            quite so deep.

They remember how
their their fingers could prove
that dirt can move.
And they’re not buried
            quite so deep.

And they remember just why
they shouldn’t’ve died.
And they’re not buried
            quite so deep.

And they remember where –
the alleys and the streets,
the course of their feet,
the light and the laughter inside.

And they’re not buried
           quite at all!

And know that when –
when the dust of bones
returns to their stones,
they never return alone.