The sandbox eats dinosaurs;
Let's build a castle with water fountain buckets

I told you the sandbox eats dinosaurs 
and you didn't believe me. 
You said it was where we were
always meant to live-- waist-deep
in fallen granules of our own sun--
you said it was where we could run away
to-- blue shovel and red bucket
for water fountain water-- let's
escape into a castle just to break the
walls bare feet--
It was you who always used the sandbox to
build yourself away into 
another body-- did you recognize
my bones there or was I plastic shovel
and terrarium pebble?--another shift--
another arm lost beneath the
pile, pile, pile of particle--
did you know that each speck
was once a planet that grew smaller
and smaller until it resolved
to become only a fragment of sand?
a humble resting place where the solar
system sends tired stars and comets
gone around too many times so that
they can be laid to rest as castles--
that's what we all want isn't it?
To die in a castle and kiss
someone else clean of sand? 
You told me that the twigs would
do well enough to serve as flags
or grave markers so that our family would
know where to leave flowers and where
to find plastic dinosaurs in bored August--
Assemble these mulch palace walls--
Erect a statue in honor of water fountains--
The sand pit grew 
damp and soaked with April by the time
we finally constructed the fortress wall
calling oak hands and picket pine-needle 
fences-- we walk out in the morning
with blue plastic shovels and dig
ourselves a new grave next to the 
dinosaurs-- stroke the heads of another
Apatosaurus and tell them to be patient--
because castles are patient 
and no one ever erected a mausoleum
with blue plastic shovels-- what 
was the water fountain for and did 
you try to wash off the sand? I told
you the sandbox eats dinosaurs--
already had a taste for bone
and building a castle is just another way
to ask someone if they love you back
as much-- no one ever loves even
and everyone in love dogs each other's 
resting place-- oak leaf
and water fountain water to wash
the sand from your hands-- if
the sandbox eats dinosaurs what made
you think it wouldn't eat us too?
It's got the teeth of comets-- burned
supernova from our shovels--
What kind of fortress do lovers make--
One of sand-- one of sand-- one of sand 
one of teeth and dinosaur burial
and oak leaf windows that peel off 
when it rains. Drink water fountain with
me and we'll live here in blue plastic
shovel mornings-- dig in and out each day--
only to bury each other again--
this is life with love and sand and
trying to escape with someone else's
body-- there was no where left to dig 
and at some point you 
always hit the earth-- the sand box
eats lovers-- that's what I meant to say--
lovers and shovels and dinosaurs--
washed with red buckets of all the
pieces of stars that followed us
here to watch our funeral. Leave flowers
for the love we hid in the sandbox--
get eaten with me by planet-teeth and mulch.