the most peculiar of dreams

the most peculiar of dreams

one balanceless step into the nearby cemetery
with its dead winter leaves
and its yellow x’d over exhumations
followed by the strangest of packs
the howling wind bites and digs its dirty nails
into the ground root, into my pores
the weirdest of people like tourists surround me
like a king of hearts to behead his wife
for his maze of roses had not been left white
why do they follow me so?
suddenly they go, disappearing without a trace
and i’m left with the friends that i had come to know
before me exists a closure in green
container rusted over to the life beyond
smaller than normal, i take my finger to its latch
and unhook the withheld stench
the most pungent of odours closely lurks at my heels
as i find my friends to show them in horror
what i have just stumbled upon
two infants clinging to one another
for the dear life they never had
upon perfectly preserved lace
the children lie in an onyx slumber
wrapped in bluish flowers
thorns jabbing their tips into the porcelain faces
or at least what once was smooth glass
is now a decomposing disaster below me
fresh, not bone
preserved like a saint