Elsewhere
Green-Wood Cemetery, Brooklyn
gray among the green green, impossibly
green grass. tombstones, last homes.
trees weep over
the sidewalk like an archway. here you
enter the land of the dead. winding
paths where your shadow follows, tethered
to your ankle in the October sun. young
couples, children in strollers. how many
Eliza’s are on these things? how
many died on my birthday?
milkweed on the hillside. rolling hill
i just keep climbing and climbing.
i could get happily lost here doing circles
down Greenbank Path, Warrior’s Lane.
trolleys carry site-seers. there’s a horrible burning
smell, like airbags. i try not to remember
that this is the one year anniversary of my near death.
but how could i not? it’s the reason i’m here.
the trees are changing yellow-orange
when i visit graves, i come away
with five or six new names for my baby
names list. August, Margaret. beautiful
purple flowerbeds. i stop to take one to press,
but it feels wrong to steal from the dead
when i can still get my flowers
elsewhere.
Photo by Madeleine Maguire on Unsplash