The Only Metaphor

there is only one metaphor

which is when I was young

my grandfather died I found

a flower in his book

we spread his crunchy ashes on

the garden where he raised six boys

and lost one

this year my father put some

leftover in a glass marble

heavy and fist sized and blue

deep cavern of ashy stars inside

I use the marble to press flowers

to fill in the margins of my poems

to make them beautiful when I cannot