Less Afraid Here

The streetlight on Marsh Road was out

so I went through the cemetery instead,

the old one with the iron gate

that's never actually closed.

I meant to walk fast.

But somewhere between the second row

and the back fence

I stopped, because the thing I'd been carrying

since—I don't know, the corner of Pine,

maybe longer—

had gone quiet.

Just the cold. A plastic arrangement

zip-tied to a stone, one stem

broken, tilting sideways

at nothing in particular,

catching some light from somewhere

I couldn't locate.

I stood there longer than I needed to.

The street was right there.

I could hear a car pass on it,

and the sound felt like the outside

of something.