Sunday, June 22, 2014

The cities of the dead

The cities of the dead,
they say, or they think
they say, come alive
on certain days,
at certain times,
whisps and vapors
escaping from the tombs,
monuments, to celebrate
or wail, laugh or moan,
a false gaiety,
a disguised agony,
to be sure but
the only time life
can be felt, not where
desire lives, but where
desire is granted,
on certain days,
at certain times. That’s
what they say, anyway.
I wonder what
they would say
about the cemeteries.

Photograph: A cemetery in New Orleans.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

life in time
in tomb remains
above ground
the soul
and not below