The Graveyard Tradition of Poetry

Their tombstone cants to grazing cows beyond the fence. A strange, ochre lichen mottles the stone. Last seen alive, my father commandeered his mobile chair like a riding lawnmower or miniature tractor, spurred its engine along the corridor, braked a squeak from my toes, sent me skeptical eyes, a question: “how did you get here”? Not waiting for my answer (which could have taken various directions) he tore over to the snowy lawn of cake with one-hundred candles, the happy song the waiting guests chorused for him. Just another day in the fields, almost like, then back to the house for supper.


forever alters her aspect to the sun. 

Published On: July 1, 2018
Permanent Location:

Volume 10, Issue 1
  July 1, 2018

Canada Day

The graveyard tradition of poetry
Jeanette Lynes

Cottage Scene
Jeanette Lynes

The Coroner's report
Jeanette Lynes

Feb 12, 2001 - Present

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7


39 Greenfield Ave
Charlottetown, PE
C1A 3N3

ISSN: 1710 193X

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