Ten Years Later in the Graveyard at Dusk

I stare at windblown leaves, hear them
crackle in corridors between headstones.
Memories patter like rain. How long
does one shamble through rifts of night,
praise with spite what another deplored,
snarl at vines of constellations for time
you insisted be spent on celestial studies.
I search for your engraved name, unsure
what to say. How you suddenly returned
to the stars. I seek the counsel of trees,
seek disclosure in a rising moon, feel
for the rhythm of night, but the granite
is cold and motionless and the breeze
carries your secrets like unspilled tears.

*

Richard L. Matta’s poetry has appeared in MacQueen’s Quinterly, Stirring, Gyroscope, Molecule, Watershed Review, and haiku journals including Modern Haiku, Heron’s Nest, Acorn, and elsewhere. He was recently nominated for a Pushcart, and is an award-winning short form poet. Editor of the 2024 Southern California Haiku Study Group’s Annual Anthology, Matta has also served as short-form poetry contest judge and guest editor.