Park St. Cemetary

I.

Banyan tree jungle
festooned in vines
like a Yeats poem rich
covered in moss a jewel
from Victoria's crown
engraved into the city
like monsoon-wolloped
inscription on the tomb.

An older India left to rot
submerged in banyan trees
& vines where crows reign
a symbol of its age as if
the city turns to say,
"Look what I've become!"

Like one's own dim image
behind a cigarette in
smoke-filled sunlight
pours from pub window
like the light that pours
misty & slow thru cemetary
over dusty poetry.

The years inscribe,
"Look at what I was,"
and shamefully,
"Not what I am today!"


II.

10m underwater kelp reaches sunward
myriad fish dart thru barnacle graves
so many dates washed away

Silt builds between Roman columns
trees dip their roots into murky water
swathing tombs with spider-fingers

In the wilderness eels twist
vile snake bodies, the dead rot in stone
under stone inscriptions

The city muffled by the water
its noise blurred, failed fishermen left
vast nets draped over the cemetary

Bright green leaves burst the darkness
like daubs of paint, the mossy walls of plackards
commemorate deceased children

A marker of civilization bereft from India,
a diver might know nothing of the
Baudelairean city above.