Easter 1952

I entered this poem in the Pratt Library Poetry Contest! Fingers crossed!

Easter 1952

We march into the spring green cemetery,

the daffodils stupidly on fire and oblivious,

the whole world alive, save one

the one we are here to visit.

My black patent leather Mary Janes

squish in the soggy green grass

as my brother and I approach,

soldiers without weapons,

except for my black plastic zippered coin purse,

inside a dollar, a quarter and a nickel.

We, the reluctant soldiers, aged seven and nine,

are commanded by aunts in black coats and heavy

black- laced shoes,  

a buzzing black hive of grief

that may explode in tears at any minute.

The grass mined with the danger of it;

We are stoic, we are impassive.

We are motherless children

paying Easter respects at gun point of guilt

We advance on her grave, gripping grape hyacinths

To be planted by aunts kneeling on newspapers

Troweling into the living earth.

The ground cries out at our steps.

Leaving

I lose the purse.

One little loss

To stand for everything.