A Case Of Dead Readership

It is hard to believe that the dead read poetry
but one cannot reject evidence. My Blog-Flux
Map Stats traced the latest reader to a
cemetery – and not just any, indeed the
Columbia Gardens Cemetery in Arlington.

Of course I am greatly impressed; if it had been
next door at Arlington National Cemetery I would
have stood erect, faced the flag and saluted. I’m
not too proud to do that – anyone who died in
genuine service of their Country owns my respect.

The dead reading my verse means I’ve left the
ordinary lists of who’s who, although in most
respects I’ve shunned that for the exact reasons
expressed in my poetry – too damn pedestrian.
But I wonder who it was; I don’t think any of my
kin are at rest there, leastways none I’m aware of.

Of course I do care a reader is dead – it means
I have reached beyond the grave in a way I
seldom achieve with the living. The next thing
I’ll get used to, I guess, are comments signed
with the momentous pseudonym ‘Deceased’.

I apologise unreservedly to those of you
to whom I rather crudely suggested,
‘Get A Life’ – I did not check to see if you
were resident at the Gardens Cemetery,
and that was extremely remiss of me.
© 13 July 2007, I.D. Carswell