the owners of the cemetery
where my
mother is buried.
no marker.
the woman looks at the map,
dragging her
finger along
the grid,
and shakes her
head.
hmmm.
she says.
she's about fifty
yards
away from the road,
ten feet from
the oak
tree.
somewhere in there,
we think.
do you want the bench?
spring sale is on.
it's marble.
we can set it close
to where
we think she is.
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