EXHUMED
there was a light rain
& I could see it in
the passing headlights
but couldn't feel it at all
coming
up in handfuls now
soft dark
earth
unburdened by the heavy footsteps
of
the hundreds that have passed this way
carefully I stepped down into my
pit
brushed away the last flecks of dirt
the sunbleached stones &
weary church
sank beneath the grasses
as I pressed my cheek to familiar
bones
in the rain
he could not have known
that there
were tears of joy
at this reunion
if he had
it might
have relaxed
the misunderstanding of our separation
as it was
I
helped him home on my shoulder
he laughing sarcastically
every time I
stumbled under his weight
time in the
grave
will hone one's cynicism
as sure
as living will
we sat on the porch
of the old house
both his & mine
draining the bottle of wine
I had bought just for the
occasion
I was silent
as he elbowed me
told jokes
about
blondes
beer
& burials while still alive
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