Howard Good The 2River View, 6.3 (Spring 2002)

Evening, Copp’s Hills Cemetery

Once, before there were children,
we walked among old gravestones
(stained, tilted, corroded teeth)
from which the names had faded,
never thinking we’d be back
and women would still be leaning
gloomy elbows on window sills,
waiting for night to dreamily float
into view, vaporous and immense,
a melting ashen swan.

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