I Sold the Altar

I sold the arbor,

the one we said

we would build together,

and bought a cheap piece of plastic

to grow the Kentucky Wisteria on

instead

I planted it just left of where

we were going to say our vows

I gave away your weed eater 

It was too heavy for me

And for nearly a year

I have been on my hands and knees

after every rain

pulling up the sorghum by hand

one by one

Maybe the clover will take over soon

I think I might die

if I decide to sell the gas mower

Not because it was yours

I just get sad

every time I lift it 

out of our little makeshift shed 

all by myself 

We used to lift it together 

I laughed so hard when I found 

those two brand new tool bags

in the attic

I kept the jigsaw

and paid the mortgage with the rest

Has enough time passed yet?

Can I sell this sadness

for twice as much as what I felt?

I used the money

from selling your car

to pay for eight new tattoos

and will keep getting 

permanent things 

on my body

that remind me of you

until I run out of room