My grandmother lifted her dark veil,
it made the sun look like a patch
of my grandfather’s skin.
I want to ask my grandmother if “Till Death Do Us Part”
means that my grandfather’s funeral
is also her wedding of separation.
She stood at the altar of his casket,
read his eulogy like a wedding vow
where she was marrying off her desire to live.
I want to ask my grandmother if she will rebel
against “Till Death Do Us Part”
by slicing out my grandfather’s heart
and preserving it while his body decays.
Her face is usually tense as an unripe fruit,
but grief can squeeze tears from the stiffest things.
My grandmother stared at the hole dug
for her beside my grandfather’s casket,
counting down the days till she moves in with him.
I want to know if “Till Death Do Us Part”
means she will have to peel off her love for him
at the same rate his skin will yawn off his bones.