Cemetery
A mind collapses
into a floor scattered with thorns
and perennial petals,
Veteran’s Flowers next door
the cemetery of Acacia Park,
Ayse’s hands made the freshest bouquets
for graves —
she watched me watch them,
her dandelion tattoos
tickling her fingers,
rooting in her elbows,
Like all weeds, she told me long ago,
blowing herself away,
One day they simply grew in.
.
Rails
– after the Dunning Asylum
Reflect moonglow
the long way
in bungalow yards
Rust hot lips
turtleheads’ pink
petals and leaves
The way tears
heat a madman’s
purple-tongued prayer —
As kids we stiffly
tightroped these
loony train legacies
Pantomiming bubble
hockey goons, stiff and
anchored to our strides
We held wooden sticks
with blades
sanded down to nothing
And whispered rumors,
uncles’ stories,
the rhyme —
.
Christian Thorsberg is a writer from Chicago. His poems, journalism, and photography can be accessed here.
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Stone Poetry Quarterly 