Completing the Pattern
Completing the Pattern
by Michael R. Burch
Walk with me now, among the transfixed dead
who kept life’s compact and who thus endure
harsh sentence here—among white-petaled beds
and manicured green lawns. The sky’s azure,
pale blue once like their eyes, will gleam blood-red
at last when sunset staggers to the door
of each mute mausoleum, to inquire—
"What use, O things of erstwhile loveliness?"
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