by Angela Corbet
It has been one year
the fractured mud-gash of earth
now dry, late-autumn
lawn. Stiff leaves, bare boughs
take up the tattoo echoed
that day over stones –
marble, uniform –
arrayed by rows wide awake
to death’s camaraderie.
Copyright © 2019 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.