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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