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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Reaching for the Stars” Down in the Dirt, v201 (11/22) Order the paperback book:

Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology The Paths Less Traveled the Down in the Dirt September-December 2022 issues collection book		get the 422 page September-December 2022 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# perfect-bound paperback book:

Dead Duty

John Grey

We went to the cemetery to see your parents.
At least, that’s how you put it.
To me, it just meant staring at a couple of stones
and putting fresh flowers at the base.
Or maybe not.
Names are just names when there’s
no people to go with them,
Your mother was no more
lecturing you on how you dressed yourself
than was the rusty wrought iron fence.
Nor was there a sympathetic father
to be seen or heard,
just a beatific angel
with pigeon droppings in his hair.
We went for a walk through
the tombstones after that.
In the city, the dead offer
the best options for a brief
incursion into the natural world.
Trees grow unsympathetically.
Squirrels don’t have a mourner’s
bone in their bodies.
And the day was warm enough
to dry off any lingering sorrow.
Before we left, we took a turn
around the mausoleums.
For all their size,
they’re as lifeless as the merest sepulcher.
But I can sense your regret
having buried your loved ones so cheaply.
I don’t understand graveyards.
Memories tell the real story.
These inscriptions are just headlines.
But you’ve done your duty.
You feel better.
Which means the dead
have also done their duty.

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