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MONIQUE SEREDA



God's Graveyard

In God's graveyard there are bones,
nothing else.
I see them,
splintered, fractured,
crushed.

God tells me,
in His wisdom,
they are mine

and my mother's
and her mother's before her.

If I could pick flowers
on this wintry day
her black eyes
would not haunt me

and my mother would say
there is no God.