Saturday, February 4, 2012


“The Grave Digger’s Daughter” © Mike Absalom 28 December 2011

Since you left me
I have been consorting with
the daughter of the grave digger.

She trains the midnight horses that will pull my black hearse
in such grave and funebrial majesty
that I shall relish the next bed
you have chosen for me,
even though it comes with a
mouthful of earth.

So soon after your departure you
may think me promiscuous
to place a bed and a
gravedigger’s daughter
in such close proximity to
myself
within the same thought.

But do you remember those words
of love spoken,
lying beneath the pines on
the dark loam of the forest
so long ago in our
unsanctified days?
Even poetry turns to dust as
time turns black,
and love dries into a very hard
ash.
All these things arrive on a sweet
rustling breeze
but each leaves in a mouthful
of earth.

Since you left me
I have been consorting with
the grave digger’s daughter.

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