Andrew Shattuck McBride
Mom insisted on cremation. She told her housemate she didn't care what happened to her ashes.
Her housemate had a water feature built, its rocks joined with mortar mixed with Mom's ashes and pets' ashes.
In Albuquerque—in the arid desert southwest—the water feature seems like an extravagance, but it's an oasis for birds.
water cradled by rock
the color of the Sandias
I haven't asked, haven't been invited. I'd sit there, though—a refugee from a life arid from lack of love.
listening carefully –
memories of water
and of Mom