by George Salamon
"'No chance to see their loved ones again': Funerals in Italy have been banned, and many are being buried alone" —CBS News, March 27, 2020
I pass by an old cemetery on
My way to buy gasoline.
Who lives here? I ask
As I hear singing and watch
A squirrel jump down to the grass.
Who's in charge here? I ask.
The stones stand and listen,
They don't tell me who drops
The shadows from the trees,
Or what is swishing through
The grass. Then I look, and
I see the silence.
George Salamon is washing his hands and not touching his face in St. Louis, MO.