Dawn trails night mist over cypresses
guarding a rusted gate seldom opened.
Beyond it, wisteria vines festoon
rows of crooked iron crosses, their
epitaphs corroding. A charnal charm
pervades, damp-earth effluvia
from has-been, laid-aside, long-lost loves.
Reddened with fallen bougainvillea bracks,
a rain puddle reflects the sad angel
honoring someone´s Maria. Drained
of color, plastic roses in a cheap,
chipped vase before her tomb
belie the affection of survivors
grown hoary and preoccupied
with their own mortality. Full of life,
a robin scrabbles for the early worm.
Lark Beltran, originally from California, has lived In Peru for many years as an ESL teacher. Many of Lark´s poems have appeared in online and offline journals.