Becki Hawkes reads an excerpt from "Cemetery park love song", coming soon in Wrongdoing's third issue

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Transcription:

"Reading the headstones 
feels like the polite thing to do 
but I cannot keep my eyes 
 
from the short-lived living. Green-veined 
white butterflies flicker up like ghosts
between the graves and there are so many
more ladybirds than I expected. I feel
like I should feel something heavier: 
 
all these nested bones and wars and moss-skinned 
grey angels, stones studded with yellow snails
the names and dates going out 
like muffled bells
but right now, in this forest of death
I do not want to think about dying. Right now 
 
I am counting our ladybirds. Right now 
I am Instagramming leaves. I take your hand in mine 
and say it must be weird here at night
but what I am really saying 
is that with you, death itself is just 
 
a Victorian-themed adventure 
playground: quaint and delicious; 
well-scripted, almost fun."

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