Patrick Dumas (August 1,1985 / Milford, CT)
“We need to talk, ” she said on the phone.
The sun was going down,
trees a silhouette
giving way to darkening sky.
“Meet me at the graveyard” she had said.
I went and stood by our usual tomb,
“Hemingway” – probably not Ernest,
I finished my cigarette.
“Hey there, ” she said catching me by surprise.
Did she always have to be so beautiful?
Her hazel eyes gave life
to the grey lingering air.
“The test came back, ” she said.
Her eyes dived into my eyes.
She held her ambiguous stare,
I hoped I could hold mine.
“I wasn’t ready for this, ” she said.
The drowning sun
reflected off her tears.
Or was it my eyes that were drowning?
“I still love you, ” she said.
I’m was holding her then,
we embraced for awhile.
Is it sick I wanted to stay like this?
“I have to go, ” she said.
Moon light shadowed tombstone faces.
An empty bier was prepared for tomorrow –
it will be filled by then.
Comments about this poem (Empty Grave by Patrick Dumas )
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