Extract from ‘Eliza’ at Mount Auburn Cemetery, West Cambridge, MA
“I’d slip out onto the road in the coming morning, get wet in the dew, go into the fields, stand near hundred year old trees, dissolving in grainy air. Ink on water, fogged out giants, you could hardly see your hand in it. The remains, half a lime line drive to the crumbled mansion of Bestfield. I grew up beside the fallen gravestone of George Best and his wife Eliza. He was a gambler. One night he lost the whole estate. He went home, shot his wife and children and hung himself.”
