(After Robert Frost’s In a Disused Graveyard)
The dead come along the living unexpectedly,
their grassy treads kicking upon their stones
once upright now downturned in the weeds.
They just wish to rest in peace, away from
these stumbling fools that wound themselves
on weathered marble letters written large:
“THE ONES WHO LIVING COME TODAY
TO READ THE STONES AND GO AWAY
TOMORROW DEAD WILL COME TO STAY.”
They are tired of these ancient un-mournings
that pick themselves up and go on, never
returning with flowers or for grave rubbings.
Don’t they know that every second brings
them closer to them? Yet, they still rather
die apart, letting their lies catch up with them.
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