The Gravedigger

The Gravedigger

The Gravedigger

A Poem by John Grey

Gravedigger’s shoulder

with a shovelful in hand,

rises up,

almost seems to elevate,

as he turns over the earth,

creates a hole.

steps aside,

fills it again

once the box is dropped.



Mourners fall to the ground and weep.

Or disappear inside each other’s

black suits and dresses.

The priest finishes up his business

and heads for death’s exit.


The gravedigger

does his job

like a farmer

expecting something might

even grow here.

A ghost would be perfect

but a cold wind will do.


I Binge

I Binge

Kodak America

Kodak America