The dirt felt wet and heavy
between my fingers
it clung to the space
beneath my nails
the clay deposits
sticky and soft
smelling of minerals.
I pause in hesitation
unsure of which to drop
the flowers or the dirt
that will land with a thump 
against the lid of the casket
in symbolic finality.
This simple act is more for me
than it is for you
because you can’t see
that the clumps from my fingers
will mix with the shovels full
that will cover you over
to lock you in the earth
to smell of minerals
and be covered with grass
and a dandelion or two.