A half-foot from the prophet
It is said that modern man thinks himself alone.
This thought doesn’t occur to the gravestones,
or if it does, it is uncommon. Perhaps only
the broken, ground-down and despised lonely
gravestones bear the witness of the others.
Some sons adore, some detest their mothers,
some lie in coffins with them, some try,
some wait a year or two before they die
to tell them either thank you or to hell
with you. Sooner than that chimes the bell—
sooner than you think! The awful groans
of dying mothers and their sons at home—