It will remain silent, an abandoned artifact,
a gravestone cross for the perching raven
that would be a swoop away from its repast
before sundown, before it croaks for more,
this yard being empty except for these stones
wrapped in tumbleweed or lost in bramble.
It has fallen on its side at the foot of the hill
looking limp like a discarded scarecrow
that has outlived its usefulness, a totem pole
piled with the debris of unclaimed markers
bereft of its stories of happy hunting grounds:
it is a forgotten memento like that on Golgotha.
It is a mere plus sign now as equations have it,
no added trappings, simply subtracted ones,
like a dangling crucifix on the ‘hood boy’s
neck, it is just a bling now, gold hung on gem
stones eked out from scorched quarries by yet
younger boys who would not know the difference.
---Albert B. Casuga
Prompt: When a relationship dies, what happens/to the orphaned plus sign?—From “Artifactual” by Dave Bonta, Via Negativa, 07-18-11