Once visited daily
by grieving parents
then annually
for careful weeding
and fresh flowers
a tradition in late May
continued by brothers
even though Alice
was only a vague memory
of a sickly older sister
in a darkened room
Still on the family tree
the great aunt who died young
nieces and nephews
move to the city
grave abandoned
body consumed
to nourish the scrub
tearing down her stone
restoring the soil
which fed her kind
for generations
About Bartholomew Barker
Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in the Triangle region of North Carolina where he has hosted a monthly feedback workshop for more than decade. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he lives and writes poetry.
Bartholomew Barker, Poet 
Good narrative that tells a story. The photo is the perfect complement. And I feel bad for the great aunt who died young. Well done
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Thanks, JM! This was an old one I wrote for an ekphrastic contest but I couldn’t find the original image. Fortunately, I have plenty of pics of disused graves from my travels.
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So strong that I can’t read it again.
Touches too close.
Would have gone in my blog – but – seriously – can’t handle it.
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Glad it touched you but sorry it hit too close.
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That’s what good writing – all strong art – can do.
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💓💓💓
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Grazie, Luisa.
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My pleasure
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