Poetry

In Life, As In Death

In Life, As In Death   Behind the crematorium they toss unwanted wreaths. As local kids we piled them up, and liked to play beneath.   In Loving Memory became a place where girls would hide, hanging their hair with flowers that had only just arrived.   In Peace became a fortress that I once attacked with Always tied around my neck, Forever on my back.   I like to think God Broke My Heart was the scene of my first kiss. But it might have been Remembered, or even Deeply Missed.   We dug a pit and covered it…

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