a quiet walk
a quiet walk
In the graveyard, I walked
I didn't take the dog in case she smelt bones
noticed even in death
there are three classes
I was drawn to the famous lies because
their place is more airy
big stones, with swada words in gold, nice
flowers and well-kept lawn
the dead middle-class people's graves were
nice to in black marble
I did come across a grave that told us
the dead had been a chief engineer
he might have been a cruel person
and would, if he could, be pleased that his
title mattered for his family
The poor graves tucked in a corner
overgrown grass hiding names, thistle too
had stings
They had something in common that made
them equal, death silence
Copyright © Jan Hansen | Year Posted 2025
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