POETRY

 

DUST TO DUST

There was a fire at the cemetery
Friday at midnight. The Fire Department
responded, the pumper dragged hose to the stream
but the summer was dry.
Caleb came with marshmallows
to hear the corpse-crackle,
to watch the souls rising
up, smoke-filled and billowy
ashes to ashes,
while carrion birds wheeled above in the blackness,
their own dance of triumph.

 

- James S. Dorr

With more than 250 poems and stories in such genre publications as Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, Darkside: Horror for the Next Millennium and The Magazine of Speculative Poetry, James S. Dorr has been an Anthony (mystery) and Darrell (stories set in the U.S. Mid-South) nominee, a several-times Rhysling finalist for science fiction, fantasy and horror poetry, and has been listed in The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror eight of the past nine years.