47 Years
by John Thornburg
Only the good die young,
John Woods. You were okay
Saints keep the resting place
a green topography of slopes
and crosses leaned, the cold of graves
lie in rows like trees.
Maybe you were glad
when Emma rejoined you
47 years is a drive, John
I know she told you all about 1969
and Neil Armstrong, World War II
If it was 1900 and I was 20 years old
maybe I wouldn't have this feeling
like there are plastic flowers
on my grave.
John Woods. You were okay
Saints keep the resting place
a green topography of slopes
and crosses leaned, the cold of graves
lie in rows like trees.
Maybe you were glad
when Emma rejoined you
47 years is a drive, John
I know she told you all about 1969
and Neil Armstrong, World War II
If it was 1900 and I was 20 years old
maybe I wouldn't have this feeling
like there are plastic flowers
on my grave.
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