if you are walking through a cemetery
you might hear them calling after you.
Their voices sound like rusty whistles and dry, crackling leaves.
You might hear them say that your nose is too long
or that your clothes look like an unmade bed.
They might say that your hair is a bird’s nest
or that you are too fat to stand on top of them.
That is how the dead will talk to us,
when they are tired of lying perfectly still
inside of their flat, tight boxes,
constantly staring upwards and never able to see the stars.

Image credit:Wendy Scofield

I am a 70-year-old woman who has written poetry since the sixth grade. I have a wonderful wife and a pretty good life. I have a chapbook titled Driving To Wellsville that was published about 15 years ago. I am active in a few LGBTQ groups and enjoy painting, writing, my wife, and my dog. Not necessarily in that order. I am happy to be part of OpenArtsforum and hope that I can keep up.