by Mark Senkus

Published in Issue No. 249 ~ February, 2018

I am running late

but I pause on the slow road

by the cemetery

listen to the silence of

death to which all but a few

birds give respect


beyond the birdsong

the silence is tall

it waits in its seconds

in its minutes

in its days and years

it waits for us


our footprints grow lighter

upon the earth as

the earth grows heavier

the gravestones converse

amongst themselves in

a perfect soundless language


the wind blows by like a finger

pointing the wrong way.

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Mark Senkus was born in Detroit, Michigan, and for many years now has lived in a far corner of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula in proximity to a forest known as the Delirium Wilderness. Senkus obtained a Master of Social Work degree and works as a psychotherapist for a Native American tribe.