In Memory – Susan Trofimow

Three generations rest here—
most newly my father.

It was he and his mother
who taught me

the work of the grave,
how to carve

a border deep enough
to keep the weeds

at bay, which tools to use
to clean worn stone,

red geraniums to plant
come spring. It’s here

where I bend my body,
my hands held in dirt,

that he most inhabits me.
It’s where I watched

the backhoe climb
the cemetery hill

while I pleaded inside
to the driver, please

turn the earth gently,
be precise in your cut—

the blunt grass, not yet
garden, swollen with dew.

Susan Trofimow is a writer living in Boston, MA. Her work can be found in various journals including Pretty Owl Poetry, 3Elements Review, Rust + Moth, Atticus Review and 8 Poems.

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