The Fear of Burial.
"In the empty field in the morning,
the body waits to be claimed.
The spirit sits beside it on the small rock.
Nothing comes to give it form again.
Think of the body's loneliness.
At night, pacing the sheared field
its shadow buckled tightly around.
Such a long journey.
And already, the remote, trembling lights
of the village, not pausing for it as they scan the rows.
How far away they seem, the wooden doors, the bread
and milk laid like weights on the table."