Poetry By
Joan Colby
Published on: 2/18/2013
Plato Center Cemetery
Just up the road, a graveyard where plots once $200, now doubled but still cheap to residents of Plato Center, a place that no longer legally exists since the postmaster died and our zip code disappeared. I should have purchased that plot twenty years ago when it was really a bargain but at the time, I had no intention of ever dying. In the graveyard, there's seven stones captioned Hall all of them children, all the same year 1880 something. What happened here— Diphtheria? I think there was a local outbreak or was that the year the big tornado hit. I know the house didn't burn because I live in it. Lately, I'm worried as more folks move in there won't be room for me. The desirable section under the twisted pines seems full. I'd settle for a spot up on the hill in full sun picketed by wildflowers.
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