Entombed in Verse

Souls long gone still wander among the living in Salem. The sound of gallows swinging lingers in the wind. Salem is a boneyard, and like its cemeteries, it mingles four centuries of history with buds of new life sprouting up between the crevices. History is carved into the gravestones, but the death throes of autumns and icy morgue of hundreds of winters have worn away the words, eroding fact into legend. Accusations and confessions have crumbled away into poetry, under the spring shade of new leaves, surrounded by wildflowers.