Cool Tombs

by Carl Sandburg


When Abraham Lincoln was shoveled into the tombs, 

he forgot the copperheads and the assassin...

in the dust, in the cool tombs.


And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall Street, 

cash and collateral turned ashes...

in the dust, in the cool tombs.


Pocahantas’ body, lovely as poplar, 

sweet as a red haw in November or a pawpaw in May,

did she wonder? does she remember?...

in the dust in the cool tombs?


Take any streetful of people buying clothes and groceries, 

cheering a hero or throwing confetti and blowing tin horns...

tell me if the lovers are losers...

tell me if any get more than the lovers...

in the dust...

in the cool tombs.


8.8.09

q Stay in touch • info@markdvorak.com • PO Box 181 • Brookfield IL 60513 • 312 315 4273