oakland cemetery

It’s autumn in Iowa City. The leaves are changing, it’s getting colder, and it’s somehow warming my heart. Last weekend I took a trip to Oakland Cemetery to check out the graves and do some reading. I visited Iowa City’s famous “Black Angel”, a large bronze statue that a woman had built for her late son. This is supposed to be haunted. Apparently if you touch or kiss the black angel you’ll be struck dead. Unless you’re a virgin, of course, since everyone seems to be obsessed with this heteronormative social construct, probably especially in the early 1900’s. I don’t believe it but also didn’t touch the statue because why play with fire, ya heard?

After visiting the Black Angel, I continued a loop around and saw some more really cool and occasionally creepy tombstones. The Protestants really know how to do it up right.

Then I laid around for awhile enjoying what I’m sure will be the last of the rays. Being in a cemetery of course made me have a pseudoexistential moment, during which I wrote the following poem:

Sunday afternoon
Laying in the cemetery
Sun on my face
Fallen acorns poking my back
The thought of you
Or not the thought of you
Makes me feel
Numb

Laying there
among the tombstones
I think of joining them
Deep beneath the blanket of grass
The thought of you visiting
Or not visiting
Makes me feel
Numb

On the walk home
I remember
And blame it on
the changing weather
or just a lack of sleep

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I’ve been attempting to write even more poetry lately, partially inspired by my little hippie poet of a sister: oldindigosoul.tumblr.com. We shall see if the creative juices keep coming.