TWO GRAVES
She could only love by remembering,
What she remembered was a revision.
She remembered unborn grandchildren
Standing in awe before the dance
of two flickers.
She remember him standing in fog
Among apples and apocalypses.
Her response, an aposiopesis, apparitional.
She saw them together near misty
stubble fields.
She saw a willow-tree cemetery, two graves.
She saw two graves; his and hers.
The graves touched.
Duane Locke
Posted over on Sentinel Poetry
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