To hear the poet read “The Open Grave,” click here.
My mother made my need,
my father my conscience.
De mortius nil nisi bonum.
Therefore it will cost me
bitterly to lie,
to prostrate myself
at the edge of a grave.
I say to the earth
be kind to my mother,
now and later.
Save, with your coldness,
the beauty we all envied.
I became an old woman.
I welcomed the dark
I used so to fear.
De mortius nil nisi bonum.
