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Click hereFlat country under much too wide a sky,
the trees and buildings dwarfed. Closefisted light
lies on the narrow road that passes by
the tall wrought-iron gates; the day is stilled
and there's no sound but birds that twitter, far
behind the hedge. A wire basket, filled
with wilted flowers, almost spills its spoils
upon the well-raked gravel. Farther in,
there's grave, old headstones for so many foils;
the day's solemnity breaks on their cold
indifference to order. Overgrown,
askew and out of line, they show a bold
defiance to the modern part, where all
anonymously tidy graves are placed
like last war's traitors lined up at the wall –
you'll never find your well-beloved here
for she you buried wasn't quite the same
as she you loved so well; too many a year
went by before she did, and though the name
engraved in granite is a name you knew
here doesn't lie the one for whom you came.
Flat country under much too wide a sky,
the trees and buildings dwarfed. Closefisted light
lies on the narrow road that passes by
right off the bat, there's a sense of things out of proportion, things 'not right'. Flat country has allusions to sea beds (well, in my head it does) and sea beds are where sea-things fall in death. 'Closefisted light' is novel and very expressive, a meanness - a dearth of light (another clever allusion death/dearth?). Beginning L3 with 'lies on the narrow road' makes me see a car passing religious billboards advertising heaven and glory in the afterlife if you stayed true and didn't stray from the narrow path.
the tall wrought-iron gates; the day is stilled
and there's no sound but birds that twitter, far
behind the hedge. A wire basket, filled
so the tall gates here are wrought iron, not the pearly kind, but the link is there all the same - it has that tang of disappointment, a taste of blood in the mouth like the memory of life gone by. There's a comparison that happens between the size and mass (if you will) of the heavy gates and the wire basket. Like the promise v the reality.
with wilted flowers, almost spills its spoils
upon the well-raked gravel. Farther in,
there's grave, old headstones for so many foils;
yes, the fresher graves on the outskirts and a stepping back through time as the stones date earlier and earlier, abandoned by most. 'Spoils' was a good choice there, with all its connotations. Liked your use of 'grave' there - you took a risk with that, imo, flirting with cliche but avoided it by bedding it into such a visual phrase.
the day's solemnity breaks on their cold
indifference to order. Overgrown,
askew and out of line, they show a bold
perfect description, but more than that I feel this draws parallels to how so many old people, especially those with dementia or alzheimers, are seen by the rest of us.
defiance to the modern part, where all
anonymously tidy graves are placed
like last war's traitors lined up at the wall –
So powerful, so dehumanised.
you'll never find your well-beloved here
for she you buried wasn't quite the same
as she you loved so well; too many a year
went by before she did, and though the name
engraved in granite is a name you knew
here doesn't lie the one for whom you came.
These last two verses speaks directly to me of dementia/alzheimers. The body lingers but the people we knew are gone, or buried so deep already they are dead to us. Your use of form has helped keep this from the maudlin, allowing the space inbetween for control - reflecting a control of sorrow; it acts as a foil to show us more sharply the N's loss for the person they knew whilst their body still went through the motions of being alive.
@Cleardaynow
I believe it's "too many years went by before she did (go by there). She is finally visiting, though the grave has been there for a while, now.
@1201
On the forum, you mentioned the graves were "restless". I believe the "anonymously tidy graves" might refer to a great amount of stacked coffins, built into the wall, but "anonymous", because they cannot be identified (they are either John / Jane Does, or they all died in a big accident / event / war, and were unrecognizable). Also, "anonymously tidy", which means it is some sort of memorial, and "someone" takes care of maintaining all graves, since there probably won't be any family coming (since the people who died aren't in any specific grave).
To further this line of thought, stanza 6 outright says that the person she buried isn't the person she thought she was burying. And the last stanza again says the person she is (finally) visiting isn't in the grave marked with her name. So maybe that's why the graves are restless.
is beyond me. I recommended in new poems, certainly deserves more comments
this is wicked, never seen this before, had to check it out, an Enclosed Triplet, but even then not what is expected, line ends not expected, have no idea what you are doing, but I like it.