Visiting Your Grave
        for E.D.

I found the path behind the row
of Amherst shops. First gold
rimmed leaves, a breeze
followed me in as I traced the gravel
to your bed, beside your sister Lavinia.
There you lay, your bones
I could not fathom.
I leaned against a neighborly stone,
noted the offerings: pens, paper scraps,
a silver charm, stray buttons
all left for you,
and pulled my own book from my pack.
All I could do was read to you—one poem—
you who first showed me
light from the lamps
the poets write themselves.

Tweet

Copyright © 2018 Andrea Potos All rights reserved
from A Stone to Carry Home
Salmon Poetry
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission