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Rosemarie Crisafi
Looking
for a Grave in Brooklyn
A
glacier left Brooklyn's highest point
the
cemetery's summit, where
once,
you could see the mirrors
of
the World Trade Centers.
Iron
fence
crowned
with barbed wire
encloses
obelisks and mausoleums
built
into knolls.
Winds
frees
dandelion's
gossamer balls
which
disperse
into
a million parachutes.
Paratroopers
land
the burial slopes
opening
white canopies
on
grass and gravestones.
My
Sicilian grandmother died
on
a New Years Eve
on
a expanding Bethlehem star.
Wrinkles
furrowed on the quilt.
Astral
curls pulsed silver
then
paled
disappearing
in Green-Wood Cemetery
beside
her dockworker husband.
She
floats over memorials
in
labyrinths of tombstones,
near
civil war monuments,
Leonard
Bernstein and Boss Tweed
by
Albert Anastasi
of
Murder Incorporated;
past
Roosevelts and Adams.
Green
umbrellas shade vaults
of
the famed, marking their province
with
a garden of shrines.
In
a corner of this park, I find,
in
a grotto of shade, unblinking,
her
gaze lustrous in the plumage
of
Chinese Geese
who
live here, willowy bills weeding,
almost
swans except
for
round forehead knobs.
A
goose holds her head high.
It
flows with grace
into
a curved neck.
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Rosemarie Crisafi lives in
Wappingers Falls, New York. She works in for a non-for-profit agency
that serves individuals with disabilities. Her poetry has been
published in The Rose & the
Thorn, The Quill and Ink, Locust Magazine, Poetic Diversity, Eclectica
Magazine, The Surface, Facets A Literary Magazine, Poetry Super
Highway, Wicked Alice Poetry Journal, SubtleTea, Great Works, Red River
Review, Millers Pond, Canopic Jar, 2River View, Nthposition, Rock Salt
Plum Poetry Review, Tin Lustre Mobil, Poems Niederngasse, Astropoetica,
Ancient Paths, Full Moon Magazine Caught In the
Net, and Experimental Poetry.com. email:
R.Crisafi
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