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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.