Perhaps, I thought, it’s time I bought a grave:
Just something humble by a chain link fence
With room enough my name there to engrave
And one or two geraniums to brave
With grace the passage still of earthly time
And mind the passersby of fairer climes
(An aisle down, where folks aren’t packed so dense).
It’s not so much that I’ve been feeling old
(At least not older than I rightly should)
But sense now everywhere some deeper cold
That nothing in me could have quite foretold,
And think: Perhaps just go there, take the tour;
Ask questions; look at holes; take a brochure;
Consider well my coffin: Metal? Wood?
Jeffrey Essmann is an essayist and poet living in New York. His poetry has appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, among them: America Magazine, Dappled Things, the St. Austin Review, Pensive Journal, U.S. Catholic, Amethyst Review, The Society of Classical Poets, and various venues of the Benedictine monastery with which he is an oblate. He is editor of the “Catholic Poetry Room” page on the Integrated Catholic Life website.
Sparks of Calliope 