Bereits im Sommer bin ich zufällig auf eine Schutthalde entsorgter Grabsteine gestoßen. Jetzt, im November, hat sich der Anblick zu Versen verdichtet: Klagelied über den zweiten Tod.

In truth
Elaine
you weren’t gone
although the years went by
as long as here
a single tear
fell from his grieving eye

And when
Elaine
he too had passed
there still was no goodbye
Engraved in stone
your memory shone
like starlight from the sky

They say
Elaine
that gravestones can
preserve the mourner’s cry
But rock decays
and marble greys
as nature’s laws apply

And when
Elaine
they dumped your stone
you vanished like a sigh
while chestnuts grew
and robins flew
where gravestones go to die