by James P. Gallagher © 1996
Painting by Fred Danziger
The mis-shapened waning moon
creeps above the stark marbled names
rinsed colorless under the metamorphosizing clouds
as the shadows slip and slither around and over each stone.
They are not alone.
Passing through the graveyard are not only shadows but also dreams.
Dreams of more than life lost.
Dreams of futures never seen, never realized.
And they are not just the dreams of the sonombulent residents.
They are our own as well.
Your dreams and mine.
It is not strange that they sometimes
are snared by an icy finger,
snatched from below.
It is the same for us
even when we are away from here.
Even in the brightest day on joyful beaches
we allow these thefts.
We want to reach up,
out from beyond the grave
to filch a thought,
to have changed the world in some way,
to leave behind more than a marbled name
shaded below a malformed phasing moon.