rstones33

Aeryn requested the poem that I wrote that was recently accepted for publication, so here it goes:

Freeport Cemetery

Two grass-grown ruts led in.
Moss covered the names
of the dead,
blotched the face
of a granite angel
like a rash.
Most here died
when lives were short.
There are no
tiny flags
or plastic roses
to decorate graves.
Sharp-voiced crows claim
theyre the caretakers now.
There are no
next of kin.


I've been writing and rewriting for about five years, so I'm glad it finally found a place for publication.