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thoughts. words. action.

short poems & essays online

plot 17

September 7, 2016 by Michael Guerin

the late august sun warmed my back
as the last row of flowers
were planted in dirt dark
as night when the foreman
asked me to take a walk
to the chapel and retrieve
the casket inside for burial
beneath a white marble angel
and as i headed that way
wondered how it was possible
for me to bring a body
from there to here all
alone forgetting about
the new section reserved
for babies gone too soon
and as the cool chapel air
slapped my face and eyes
adjusted to the shade
spied a small white box
near the altar no bigger
than one for shoes you buy
at the mall and as my heart
pounded i reverently raised
it up lighter than a breath
and carried the tiny package
to plot seventeen and laid
the box down on green green grass
then dug a hole appropriately
sized and planted one final
sprout that day just moments
before grief-stricken parents
headed my way to stand beside
the neatly seeded patch of ground.

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About Michael Guerin

writer, dreamer, lover, seeker. labels never reach the heart of any matter, but they might be a place to start...

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