Like Sailboats on TV
Across from the charred white bar and grill, in the place where the
Irish still bury their dead, I stood next to your grave.
Looking at it then, it didn't seem so final. There was a light that
fell across the marker the amber color of an empty pill bottle.
And the distance was false. You were gone but here, like the picture
you took of sailboats on TV. Like the handwriting on a letter you wrote
As the light faded, my vision narrowed, and I saw the grave had grown
four legs and a long, prehensile tail. I watched as it crawled away, a
green, stone-headed creature, in a halo of blue whatever.
Christopher Kennedy's most recent book is ENNUI PROPHET (BOA Editions). He directs the MFA in Creative Writing program
Detail of photo art on main page courtesy
of Udit Kulshretha.
Read more of CKs' work in the archive.
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