Karen Corinne Herceg © 2015 • Privacy Policy


My parents rest in drawers of steel,

within shiny, cushioned boxes

behind walls of stone.

Slid in like bakers’ trays,

but they will not rise,

will not resurrect,

and it’s for the best.

I couldn’t withstand

a re-birth,

not for any of us.

We had our chance.

I’ll go it alone now,

I muse,

resting my head against

the cool marble,

the inscription of their names,

the chiseled dates

making impressions on my flesh.



First published in THE FURIOUS GAZELLE  June 2015

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