A visit to the family cemetery is the subject of this poem. There are three generations. What makes this poem work, I think, is the different ways they each view it.
The Family Plot
Whenever we go visit
Grandma and Grandpa
we always have to visit
a certain old cemetery.
Dad slowly steers the car
past the granite gravestones
while me and my brother
crack jokes in the back seat.
The family plot is on a hill
overlooking a stone wall.
Nice view, my brother says.
Good drainage, I put in.
Dad turns to stare at us, hard.
Grandpa says: I’ll be buried
right next to my sweetheart
and Grandma smiles at him.
There’s room for us all, Mom says
and the cheery ways she says it
makes it sound like we’ll be
camping underneath the stars.