Cemetery Woman

Open gate
mouth gaping into darkness
I follow
stepping slightly on soft grass that
I am sure is green.
If there was a light
any light
any loves lost beacon into centuries
searching...
light is over-rated.
I am sure the headstones are to the left
or right
but not in front of me.
My eyes have adjusted enough to shadows.
I wish I could see the angels
perched on top of cement and marble
watching their blithe charges like stones should guard.

They have been dead for centuries
they have been married for years
and what lasts longer than gold
embracing bones loosely
and abandoning pleasure?
All beauty is deceased and crying up to heaven
"rape."

I had heard it before
unsure soft spoken woman
tiptoeing across ancient wood floors
and now burial grounds
left forever from God.

Have I come to bury myself here?
To bury her which I hate
the uncertainty of it all shining?
I will lay down and hope.

Perhaps the wrought iron gates were wrong
and the angels, for a moment,
stopped watching.
These things happen
these things happen
these things.....
echoing inside my body
the sacred ground.