We are not the same…

“We are not the same”
cries Aunt History
“I work in the fields
where bones are buried”
Uncle thinks
Bones, leaves, earth, blood
Form a haiku
She knows he’s off plumb
But she’s occupied now
Consoling the birds

Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by stevekuusisto