For National Poetry Day:

copps-burial-ground

There’s some peace to be found in the

burial ground;

in these rain-beaten slabs, sinking into the earth themselves,

and the new American flags that adorn them.

Historians will not preserve you

as they have here, in heroes’ graves

in the city centre.

The best you can hope for is a country churchyard,

orange leaves and snow above you as the seasons change,

ravaged body gone but your bones will remain.

The city might remove your stone, someday,

Maybe after the inscription has faded away,

But here below the earth you will stay, in obscurity.

Peacefully; divorced from the excesses of life

And the petty destructions of modernity.

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