Wings in the air flail
as if to raise the dead
from underneath the big flat stones,
ledgers they’re called,
that cover almost all the graves,
big enough to picnic on,
in summer when the clearing’s done. Continue reading →
In Memoriam, Donald Wayne Henry
April 28, 1939 – April 10, 2015
One lone sentry. Set apart to bid watch.
The others loft and spring, a-cackle up and down the railing.
Plaintive laughter “I want! I want!” “Mine!” “Mine!”
The tide low and still, the gulls search impatiently, frantically.
Laughing, laughing, maws agape.
Life ebbs from the rock salt tomb back to where it came from. Continue reading →