EMMA EAMES

 

“I will sing unto the Lord, because he hath

      dealt bountifully with me.”  Psalms 13:6

 

Her long dead voice, when the computer mouse

Clicked on the aria upon the screen,

Rose from the speakers to my ears, careened

Through the cochlea of time. Laid in a house

By absent hands interred, her shrunken corpse

Lay dreamless underneath a slab of stone,

Two miles away. I listened, and the tones

Evoked for me her image dim and close.

 

The plot was girdled with a wrought iron fence,

The marble chiseled with a cypress tree

Set in a circle under a verse from Psalms

That spelled her gratitude to ages hence.

The flora stirred with springtime mild and calm.

All times and places were as one to me.

 

 

Oak Grove Cemetery

Bath, Maine