Andrew Michael Roberts

the lost

new snow
pacifies the firs.

the graveyard glistens.

i'm a stranger here
among the names.

i don't believe in death,
i come because
the silence is deepest,

and people abandon
marvelous things:

fossils, teeth,
a plywood horse,
a birdcage filled
with tv guides.

hand grenades,
each other.




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