
Tampa Cemetery
Underground, the bones of the crooked sheriff
Talks to the bones in the next lot, the bones
Of a pious, Baptist deacon,
who raised neurotic children.
The crooked sheriff wants to tell the deacon’s
bones about the success of his grandson,
who has a future in computers,
makes a salary in the six figures
The sheriff sees the sad face of the deacon,
Invites the deacon to join him in hymn singing.
They sing together, and the earth around
their bones,
Puts its hands over their ears.
Duane Locke
Posted over on Jacket Magazine
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