October 27, 2014

Grace by Danny Earl Simmons

I lay your head in graveyard grass
beneath where stone-gray mountains grow.
Grace, feel the insects wriggle past

the way our hands and bodies mesh.
And as our blood begins to flow
I lay you down in graveyard grass

to breathe-in sweet decay’s morass
of blackened earth and what’s below.
Grace, feel the insects wriggle past

our muffled sighs until, at last,
a shaded scythe seems apropos.
I thrust inside the graveyard grass

for both the first time and the last,
then kiss you twice before I go.
Grace, feel the insects wriggle past

the way you slowly lose your grasp
and smile now because you know
I’ll rest your head in graveyard grass.

Danny Earl Simmons is an Oregonian, a friend of the Linn-Benton Community College Poetry Club, and an active member of Albany Civic Theater. His poems have appeared in a variety of journals such as The Pedestal Magazine, Naugatuck River Review, Off the Coast, IthacaLit, and Fifth Wednesday Journal.

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