A Poem of Mine

Scared as I am, I'm going to share a poem I wrote at the beginning of last summer. The germ of "Behind the Plots" began years back when driving on Pinelawn Road -- a strip comprised of cemeteries, florists, monument stores, and vacant grassy lots.

Behind the Plots

This land is prime land,

For condominiums.

So many hopefuls could start here -

Behind the plots.

If you could just tell people to stop dying,

To stop doing what you’re doing,

A developer could take that healthy,

Fertilized, treated lawn and

Cut it up, lay the foundation and

Build some real nice starter homes.

They’d have to face the wrong direction,

Of course,

If you didn’t want to see the headstones

While you graciously acquired dish-pan hands.

For a small price reduction it might be worth it.

So what if your backyard

Was supposed to be a graveyard

And your child plays where others should rest?

This is your start

And you worked so hard to have him

And space is so limited

On this beautiful island.

That open-armed statue was something.

Virgin Mary waiting to receive those

Victims of carcinogens,

Who thought the green grass would make

A suitable resting place.

They’d feel at home under the fake green grass that brought them there.