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My Headstone by Ronnie Sirmans

My Headstone

I told my husband that when I die

I want one of our artistic friends

to do my headstone. I want mine

handmade, almost like it’s folk art.

Not granite with a sheen, no perfect

inscription chiseled. Let the angel

in outline be primitive, sharp wings

to jut up, in darkness like devil horns.

Let’s use some cheap concrete mix,

blend in pages from my unread books,

add in shells and pebbles I saved from

trips to beaches and walks in woods. 

My husband warns me such a marker

could soon wear away. Yes, I say, yes.

Ronnie Sirmans is an Atlanta digital media editor whose poems have appeared in UK-based publications Blackbox Manifold, Peeking Cat Poetry, Three Drops from a Cauldron, Dublin-based Impossible Archetype, and various US journals.


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