At Our Lady of Perpetual Memory,
funereal fads can be followed for centuries.
Nineteenth century watch houses
and mortsafes are slowly replaced
by lasercut urns and polished stones.

Twenty-first century tombstone
tapestries of digital memories
line well-kept cobblestone walkways,
holographic reproductions
of deceased loved ones set in stone.

The holograms move in silence except
for wind gossiping with Arbor Vitae,
but push a button and poignant recollections
clamor for attention, though a virus
of virtual moss grows over their mouths.

During the fall of 2000, Sandra Lindow and her family lived with four other families and 80 college students in Dalkeith House, a seen-better-days palace in Scotland. Her rambles through old cemeteries inspired this poem. Her previous poem in Strange Horizons can be found in our Archive.