THE AIR OF THE CEMETERY
The air of cemetery is rolled up
Rolled up in a bolus of silence
In the dust between the graves
It blows into the upturned graves
And hangs in the silver of the clouds
Marching silently across the sky.
Plastic flowers for the dead bend
Stuck in their earth they say nothing
There is no perfume in plastic nor voices
Nor songs to sing in forgetfulness
Yet down in the town of the living
The hum of printing presses is heard
Hammering out more Death notices
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
