Tuesday, February 26, 2013

That Day and Many After



The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton







The birds
were already gone.
A foreign, frigid wind
tore at his clothes
with grieving fingers

as he waited for the startling
crack of gunfire
to announce

a moment
lost in time,

the final, solemn ceremony
of a life well-lived.

His heart split open
on the scattered mounds of dirt,
uniformly shattering the silence.

Roses in winter
always

made him weep.