not an unpleasant place,
this
land, this wooded
cemetery,
bordered by an iron
fence
that keeps no out
and everyone in.
it's a grassy field
of markers with
the names of the dead
carved in,
inscribed with
the dates
of leaving the earth,
and the day they
were born.
some markers are
tilted, some fallen down,
some marble
others of common
stone.
and then there's the statues
and squared
homes, mausoleums.
it's easy to tell who
had
money,
who had little,
who had none when it was
time to lie
down.
No comments:
Post a Comment