The husband and wife choose a spot under the eucalypts in the far

corner away from monumental slabs and concrete crosses. The suited

man in gumboots approves their decision to save the earth, to lie

above/below one another for all time. They find comfort in the idea

of coupling dust and do not argue about who goes on top, it will be

decided. The deep grey marble has shine. Upright rows interspersed

by rose bushes please their sensibility, but headstones are narrow,

less space to commemorate two lives than if they choose to lie side

by side. Up one row and down another they stride to see what others

have written: devoted mother/adoring father to, loving grandfather/

cherished grandmother of. On the drive back to the city she writes

on scraps of paper. He cannot be adoring father to her son, nor can she

be devoted mother to his. The traffic is banking up, unusual for this

hour. He is agitated, late for work, already worrying how to make safe

the children in his care, while she worries the words. Can they fit

on one stone? She hates these phrases so wrong for a second marriage.

Does he agree? He nods absently past Big W, past Anaconda Adventure

Superstore when she finds a solution. Name the children not the parents:

with enduring love for our cherished sons and adored grandchildren, a love

letter set in stone. Later when there is time to reflect he will suggest

their union of skin, heart, mind cannot be read. He will not be her beloved

husband, just beloved of her, and she beloved of him. It is enough.

Australian Poetry Journal, (2014 (4) 1, p.101.