A Writing on the Net SM
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Grief That Sweats
By M. L. Needle
Copyright 1998 M. L. Needle

 A poem about a mother's emotional visit to her son's gravesite.
A small worn flag marks the place
a granite slab, polished;
yet on my face , I know it well
its somewhere between a dimming sun.
On Mother's Day, a son
whose crumpled body froze on foreign ground
Its only hearsay the X-rays match,
nevertheless, I come.
My son, once with infant skin
smelled of talc and fresh night clothes ...
May's shade is so deceiving
water runs down my face, my neck