we are having a funeral
The Hatchet

all The Hatchet’s friends and family will be there
we’ll sing
all The Hatchet’s
favorite songs

someone will say The Hatchet
was a good person
when we all know The Hatchet
was not
a person

our families will get in an argument
about what
The Hatchet
“would have wanted”
my mother does speak of The Hatchet
or what happened to all the trees
as far as my family is concerned
there is no such thing
as a tree

we lower The Hatchet into the ground
while you read a poem for The Hatchet
you say the poem is about The Hatchet
when we all know the poem is really about your hands
The Hatchet

i couldn’t remember what flowers The Hatchet liked
so i brought some twigs and branches from the backyard
i suspect The Hatchet never liked flowers at all

maybe these branches
are actually the arms i once held outstretched for The Hatchet
maybe i am a tree
and this
is why my family
does not believe me

i almost don’t want to throw this dirt over The Hatchet’s open grave
i think i may hold onto this dirt forever
because i’m afraid we can’t just bury
i think we might have so many more hatchets waiting for us back home

we shake our heads as everyone who ever knew The Hatchet floats away from us
we never imagined it would come to this
we never thought we’d be the ones
to bury The Hatchet
we always thought The Hatchet
would be the one
to bury us

jamie mortara is a queer poetry witch, a proud capricorn overthinker, a picker, a grinner, a lover, a mother, and a saint. they are author of 3 zines, 2 poetry collections, and a partridge in a pear tree. they’re originally from New Jersey and they are not gonna apologize for it. more poetry and books and stuff at jamiemortara.com