a po-em

Because we’re cultured, dammit.

(this one had me at ‘trees out of a vampire flick’)

GRAVEYARD ON A HILL

Charles Simic

Let those who so desire continue to dream
Of heavenly mansions
With their vast chambers and balconies
Awash in the light of a golden afternoon.

I’ll take this January wind, so mean
It permits no other thought
Than the one that acknowledges its presence
Among these weedy tombstones
And these trees out of a vampire flick
Bending to the breaking point

And then straightening up — intact,
With the wind busy elsewhere,
Nudging dead leaves to take a few quick hops
Right up to the branch they fell from.

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