Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2017
It rained the whole time we were laying her down;

Plucked from earth to elsewhere, some fantasy. She left like water after a rain, running to the sun to again slide down. And it

Rained from church to grave when we put her down.

Soaked the soil, left it muddied. Someone stifled a cry but the wet and cold made it sound like a sinus problem. There was something funny about it, but not in that moment. There,

The **** of mud at our feet was a hollow sound.
"Graveyard Blues" is by Natasha Tretheway, from her 2006 collection Native Guard.
Christopher Hendrix
Written by
Christopher Hendrix  Blue Springs, Missouri
(Blue Springs, Missouri)   
       --- and Yue Wang Yitkbel
Please log in to view and add comments on poems