A.B. Jakobsen

The grave is warm

The grave is warm which holds the thing that called in voices not its own

The grave is warm with blood of the sea that seeps and courses in earthly bone

 

When one is lost in the yonder blue

We warn the living with a poem told

Burn your dead, bury em’ out of view

And pray for their grave to be oh so cold


23 August, 2024