all vapor and vinegar, we,
insistent and cold, tug like a child
at your sweater –
you feel us when your skin crawls
and bubbles over
and when you look down,
as the Shenandoah burns,
you get a small taste of our view.
today, the cemeteries dress formal,
give a hand
as to one stepping
out from a carriage,
and wait.
Press Send Poetry 
nice…the dead do tug at us occassionally…their shadow falling from above in chill…love the bit on seeing from their view…
nice…the dead do tug at us occassionally…their shadow falling from above in chill…love the bit on seeing from their view…
Ah, the first Halloween poem I've read (this year) and one that does a great job of creating the atmosphere.
Ah, the first Halloween poem I've read (this year) and one that does a great job of creating the atmosphere.
Thank you guys for your kind comments!
Thank you guys for your kind comments!