submitted 1 year ago by snakesnakewhale@sh.itjust.works to c/poetry@sh.itjust.works

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Edward Hirsch, 2020

Instead of a pebble to mark our grief
or a coin to ease his passage
you placed a speaker
at the top of his head
and suddenly a drumbeat
came blasting out of the grass,
startling the mourners on the far side
of the cemetery, clanging the trees,
scattering the swifts
that had gathered around the stone
like souls of the dead,
souls that were now parting
to make way for a noisy spirit
rising out of the dirt.

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this post was submitted on 08 Jul 2023

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Poetry

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