Golf ball on the grave by Judy Gaudet

Poem title: Golf ball on the grave Poet: Judy Gaudet Poem: The absolute was what he called the infinite, the source and end of which we are expressions. Out of the figurative mouth and returning to the same? To the figurative ear perhaps? The absolute’s own, or what other’s? There is a golf ball on the grave of some settler in this cove, Acadian or Highland, undulating field marked with white crosses, mowed by hand by the friendly park manager who admires my dog whose interest in the grasses and shore is infinite, within her finite parameters at least, whose joy in the stick found and tossed over her shoulder lights up age, doubt, mortality. Dog and god, a famous duo, the immortal joy of existence, the absolute, infinite, recurring, expressed joy of being. Accepting it with ungrudging delight. End of poem. Credits and bio: Copyright © Judy Gaudet Judy Gaudet is a poet from PEI who is the author of Her Teeth Are Stones (Acorn 2005) and Conversation with Crows (Oberon 2014) as well as the editor of an anthology of poems about Canadian history, 150+ (Acorn 2018).