When My Mother YouTubes Cremation
she says she is morbid, just wants
to know what happened to her —
my grandmother, nothing but ash
and bone fragments. Pieces
I can’t ever touch. Burning
on a computer screen. I want
to open her, sift my fingers
through her sand. A body
no longer anything like flesh
but flesh I am part of.
When my own mother turns
to bits of dust, will I search
for her too in a keyboard? A video
on repeat? Body then burn,
burn then back to body. Buried
someday, my grandmother’s ashes
alongside my mother’s alongside
mine — nesting dolls made of dirt.
Randi Clemens is a north central Illinois native and holds an MFA from Northern Michigan University. Her work can be found online with Pidgeonholes, LandLocked, Meow Meow Pow Pow, and Up North Lit.
Twitter: @randiclem