For the Ferryman

I know better than to
                        stomp on graves
                        steal their bouquets
            for when the wind picks up
                                I have the feeling
                        the dead
                                   are watching

& one day I’ll rejoin their flock
I wonder who will be standing there,

what kind of reputation// I’ll leave behind
     If there’s any such one
                maybe time will envelop me
                       its own precarious ocean

  I know you wouldn’t know the difference
       I know another day would rise and fall
               & I’m almost looking forward to
                                                     being truly

Of indifference, throughout,
Or great unfathomable joy….
Leave the coins.


7 thoughts on “For the Ferryman

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