Lichen Crusted Stones

At seven years old
I imagined
the Bad Behavior Cemetery
was where
the school principal
buried all the wicked kids
he hit too hard
with his wooden paddle.

I placed it next to
the post office
where parents
sent postcards
and letters
to their lost children
who waited out purgatory
for judgement day.

Early All Halos day,
after refusing
to collect candy
trick-or-treating,
I snuck in there
to search
for my brother’s
headstone
since my mother
did not know
where he was buried
and I wanted
to see it.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

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