Left there the corpses,
then the skeletons,
first alone, then to-
gether, their beloved
wives newly carved on
the head –
stone.
Left there the flowers
fade, made of nylon,
or decay, if alive once,
foil and cellophane
are blown away and
vase is
cracked.
The ground is pinned down,
there is nowhere to
be, only thin waves
lap each grave where we
wade to reach that door,
key-hole
free.