St. Peter's Cemetery Poem by Francis DiClemente
St. Peter's Cemetery
I extend a hand to touch an angel trapped in marble.
Its face is cool and damp, like the earth beneath the slab.
I pose a question to my deceased father,
Knowing the answer will elude me.
For his remains are not buried in this cemetery,
But instead rest on a shelf in my sister's suburban Ohio house.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: angel,deceased,father,house,sister,trapped
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8/13/2026 8:30:12 AM # rel_20260811T123139Z_a98d49b
