Baby Land, Rosehill Cemetery
by Jeffrey Daniel DeLotto


Hap…happy—Christ, look at them all,
Shepherded by that child’s comfort to be held
And worn and dragged down hallways, silent
As the breathless day, the thigh-high teddy bear
Bandsawed out of rosy granite watches over
Gabriella Valle, October 5, 2000-Ocober 5, 2000,
Or John Everett James McMullen, shouldering
Family names into a solid future, a new day that
Never came, and then March 22, 2006-March 22,
2006—a ripe peach fresh pulled from the branch
Lasts longer, before turning into a soft brown
Velvet bag of….Oh, and this tome-sized granite
Slab, with “Albert Lloyd Dunlop III” deeply
Chiseled above “Lil Jr Jr,” underneath, underneath,
April 7, 2006, words, words hammered in, each
Strike an infernal knell, smitten, struck now in
Soundless notes, “Brother Chris, Sister Chrisly,
October 29,” what difference the year? Here
They lay, my boy, too, in the breathless day with
No sky, no bloom. Anniversary—happy. What
World did we bring you to, and leave you in?






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