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Poetry

The stones at Rodef Sholom
Cemetery hold light
but they do not gleam:
I am an open grave.

Below us, my Aunt Gail,
a body, lowered to the dirt
in a pine box. The first shovel
sounds like hammers, then voices

in an empty room. My daughter
piles rocks on top of her great-grandfather.
Hello, she says with each one.
The mourners shovel.

Hello. Hello.

They aim to fill the darkness
at the sides of the coffin.
The fall of dirt has softened.

Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello.

 

 


Jared Beloff is the author of Who Will Cradle Your Head (ELJ) and editor of the Marvel-inspired poetry anthology Marvelous Verses (Daily Drunk). His work can be found at Agni, Baltimore Review, River Mouth Review, The Shore, and elsewhere. He is a poetry editor at The Weight.
www.jaredbeloff.com

 

 

 

Photo by Pascal Vugts on Unsplash

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