Poem

tombstones make macabre lawn ornaments, coffins are the worst kind of patio furniture

"tombstones make macabre lawn ornaments, coffins are the worst kind of patio furniture"

i saw my parents’ grave marker
twice...at saint ann’s on oak street.

once at my mother’s funeral,
and again at my father’s.

memory assures me
that they once lived.

their names etched in stone
remind me that they are gone.

i can’t imagine being there
when i’m not miserable.

About the poet Bill Campana

Bill Campana’s poem “tombstones make macabre lawn ornaments, coffins are the worst kind of patio furniture” is a raw and contemplative meditation on loss and the weight of memory. In just a few stark lines, Campana recounts the haunting experience of encountering his parents' grave markers. The poem underscores how memory keeps alive the reality of their existence, even as their names etched in stone serve as a constant reminder of their absence. Ultimately, the poet reveals a poignant truth: his capacity to feel whole and content is intricately tied to the depths of his grief.

Discover more about Bill Campana’s journey as a poet and performer on his full bio page HERE.

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Summary

The speaker remembers seeing his parents’ shared grave marker twice—once for each funeral—and confronts the strange contradiction between memory, which proves they lived, and stone, which confirms they are gone.

Analysis

Campana’s enormous, darkly comic title gives way to an extremely restrained poem. That contrast matters. The title tries to domesticate death through jokes about lawns and patio furniture, but the body of the poem offers almost no protection from grief. Memory and the grave marker perform opposite functions: one assures the speaker that his parents existed; the other makes their absence permanent. The closing admission that he cannot imagine visiting the grave without misery refuses consolation altogether. There is no lesson about healing—only the continuing coexistence of memory and loss.

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