No Shade

Took the short cut through, just killing time.

The sun glared off polished granite, prime

for a new name, cut sharp and deep.

What did they promise, what did they keep?

A small flag, plastic, faded pink and white,

stuck crookedly, losing all its light.

Next to a headstone, old and worn and low,

where the unmowed grass had started to grow.

So quiet. Too quiet, for a place like this.

No birds, just the sound of a missed

step on gravel, and my own breath.

A heavy quiet, before, or after, death.