At The Graveyard Poem by Sheena Blackhall

At the Graveyard (1)
Sitting in the car, I wait. The engine cools
I watch cow parsley waving in the wind

The gravediggers throw their spades
Into their truck

There is fresh dug soil in the graveyard
Tomorrow there will be a funeral

A cabbage white butterfly zigzags over the wall
Two spits of rain drop on the silent windscreen


At the Graveyard (2)
Do dry bones dream?
When the music's over
Do they sleep like crotchets
In the unplayed bars of a fugue?

They are beyond the reach of hatred, love, despair
They are the missing pieces
Of family jigsaws
And their visitors, the mourners
Can you see their hearts cracking
Beneath their rainproof coats?