by William Teets
Fear outlasts faith
I tell her my truth from behind a Revolutionary tombstone
She sketches away
Brings a forgotten life back to the living
Dry leaves and fallen sticks crack below my feet
Dead bone too
I sit on stone
Pull rusty words of Eliot from my sack
She sketches away
Do I dare, do I dare, do I . . .
When done, she leisurely says, “It’s etching, not sketching,
faith goes a long way.”
I smile
Want to believe her sweet words
Have her etch me, bring me back to life
A ghost musket ball fires below my foot
Stone cracks
Bone breaks
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