between the headstones

between the headstones
the grass growing green
where the grounds’ man keeps
the weeds from overtaking
graves of forgotten
ancestors and of
neglected mothers
ignored by children
with no time for grief
the soldiers lie still
flags gently swaying
a line of colors
in patriot winds
with rusty railings
heavy chain fences
creaking in the night
frightening neighbors
whose imaginings
conjure ghosts and ghouls
do not think too hard
of what lies beneath
the closely shorn grass
the parklike meadow
don’t let yourself think
or the reality
of mortality
will find its way home