Beautiful Thing, Aflame

the beautiful machine
intricate and wet
heated to boil and pop
as classmates play
in the summer sun

less than a month after sixteen
a month after confirmation

what would you like to do
with the body?

play in the summer sun

body rotting in a box
would spark dark thoughts

we choose fire

a beautiful thing, aflame

a certificate verifies
his ashes are his ashes
not some large dog
small cow or feral hog

they arrive in a plastic bag
inside a plastic box
clipped with a metal tag:

COMMUNITY
MORTUARY
6120

Rising, with a whirling motion, the person
passed into the flame, becomes the flame –
the flame taking over the person

his bagged ashes
remind me of
Destin beach sand

the day we spent
building castles
and burying each other

suddenly

Father Jim
provides
an efficient
hole-side
ceremony

beautiful and unsatisfactory

our lovework
reduced to a grey heap
scatterable by breeze

was that his jaw?

the hole was too small
the ashes not enough

ashes
rose petals
holy water
dirt

was that his skull?

skeleton in a box
is nothing to fear

we launched these bones
with a kiss

our love
and a miracle

Brian Builta lives in Arlington, Texas, and works at Texas Wesleyan University in Fort Worth. He has recently published poems in Jabberwock Review, Juke Joint Magazine, and South Florida Poetry Journal, with poems forthcoming in New Ohio Review and TriQuarterly.