graves

from the burial ground
at old Copp’s Hill
two clay-daubed ministers rise

floating from their earthen mound
flitting through the red-bricked ville
fleeting in the moonlit skies

their shrouds of Cotton
in breadth Increase
with the billowing gust

their faces forgotten
their breaths long ceased
their bones dust but spirits robust

beyond the lofty chasms
father, son overtake
father-son towers

two new-bloomed phantasms
at last both awake
to smell their concrete flowers.

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Michael Yashinsky ‘11 is a History and Literature concentrator living in Mather House.

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