Union Line Cemetery by Anthony Watkins (Goodreads Author) In a graveyard in Mississippi Lie the bones of a woman I loved And those of a man I did not, Though I am more like him than her. Down a paved road off the federal highway Slicing diagonally from Mobile, The road turns sharply as if It was meant to dead end. But as if someone moved the gates The road bends goes on precisely south While the sun goes west away from the graves. Marble benches wait through the undisturbed dust For me to stop to pick sand spurs from my dress socks And prick my fingers and remember I am alive. While under clumps of low growing weeds, Neat green grass and bare spots These dead people rest in a Mississippi summer quiet, As they do in winter beneath a midnight ice storm. Dead, yes, they are dead, But I am alive and they are why I am so. They keep us, our families, ourselves alive. I wonder if in a few years when I am dead, Ashes tossed in the Mississippi, Will I hold anyone connected or only be dust, Forever blown about where the delta turns to sea?
Posted on: Sat, 29 Jun 2013 05:55:04 +0000
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