< Issue 1 >
Necropolis
by William A. Poppen
Beneath shade from tall poplars stand
markers: rows staggered hand-in-hand.
Rock slabs like soldiers on review
symbolic nameplates capture dew.
Planted deep, mounted in red-clay;
lean to and fro like mimes at play.
Weathered by icy winter frost
and torrid heat near sacred ghost,
echoes resound of beginnings
while dust sifts across the endings.
Bill, you are so talented in so many ways. I do think your poetry is beautiful.
Judy