Tuesday, April 7, 2009

In Memory Of John Updike (1932-2009)

Epitaphs In Granite

Run rabbit run, Updike is dead,
His unwritten pages on a pyre
Turned to ash, turned to smoke,

Turned to layers of earth left untilled,
Turned to grey fog not unlike a ghost
Lifting over a New England field of green

Where rabbits run between headstones
In the fading, failing of twilight falling
Across our final lines, our epitaphs in granite.

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