Secure the yoke and bind the crown.
Steady the mouth and tongue for sound.
The morning breaks. Our sight is found.
The bell is hung. Let’s gather round.

Now strike the lip for their renown.
Each hammer swing is coming round
with darker wind, with darker sound.
The bell is rung. The notes amound.

The body knells. They’re going down,
each one a babe into the ground—
each one a babe into the ground.
The bell has rung. Our lives are bound.

If god could hear, his tears would drown
the hell that tolls and hearts that frown.
Instead we hear the dead resound.
Instead we hear the dead resound.

 

Gregory Palmerino’s essays and poems have appeared in Explicator, Teaching English in the Two Year College, College English, Amaze: The Cinquain Journal, International Poetry Review, Courtland Review, Shot Glass Journal, The Lyric, the fib review, The Road Not Taken, Autumn Sky and The Society of Classical Poets. He teaches writing at Manchester Community College and writes poetry in Connecticut’s Quiet Corner, where he lives with his wife and three children.

Featured Image: “Memorial for Unborn Children” by Martin Hudacek.

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