Standing.
Close enough to feel
the fresh turned gravel
through my thin-soled shoes.
No fake grass to obscure
the reality of that bare hole.
Rifles popped and echoed.
A far away bugle gave us
the saddest of all Amens,
which chilled and chilled.
My father shuddered
and pulled me close.
Embarrassed and ashamed for him,
I watched tear drops leave his eyes
to fall on that ground
which was only beginning to show
its insatiable hunger
for the young men of our town.
— Max Yoho
These poems are by Topekan Max Yoho, a native Kansan, retired machinist, and Kansas author. All were originally published in Felicia, These Fish Are Delicious, Dancing Goat Press, © 2004 by Max Yoho
The Coop: A Poetry Cooperative 
I enjoyed hearing the author read this thought-provoking poem on two occasions recently. It has much to say to all of us.