When I die will you remember me

as a time of day?

like the last seconds in May

or last tuesday afternoon when tawny

pecan feet rumbled through blades of grass

or when the sky was turquoise high and leaves changed colors before falling into little

sun-kissed landscapes that let you make a wish

before they rearranged themselves into mirrors that cut me into ten lines

Reflection 1: Two women gaze proudly into a glossy brine as my orange

gold saltswept body rinses gently

into ribbons