We had a picnic in a graveyard once,
in Kildalkey, County Meath,
a small place.
A graveyard is mighty busy
on a fine Summer Sunday.
You would be amazed.
The clay was visited by sons and daughters,
wives and mothers, husbands, sisters,
and a lover.
The lover was the saddest. Why?
Unlinked, I suppose. Incomplete.
Frustrated of union.
At least, if someone is bone of your bone
and flesh of your flesh,
then death cannot change that.
Forever, they will be related only
in her mind, and she can't be
buried with his people.
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