I saw in a graveyard
carved of marble and stone,
Angels complete with
wings
they couldn't possibly fly.
Given what I know
of gravity
and the weight of death -
I wondered.
Iron fences
rusting gates,
I, laying here
in a tangle of roots.
Who has
come here before?
I saw in a graveyard
flowers left
widows and siblings.
So where are the angels
halos and wings
not of cement
but heavenly spirits
to carry me far
beyond the falling
acorns.
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