The Punta Arenas Cemetary (Poem #23, now we're on track, baby!)

The grounds are huge:
well groomed trees
giving a sense of grandeur
to these famous family tombs,
and also solemnity: pathways
named "Thoughts" or "Hammers."
Alone, or accompanied yet still alone,
you walk under these ornaments,
and don't know who anyone is
in the mausoleum with the neo-gothic
angel, despite the family's name
written below. You head down,
and run into someone else's grief
near the above-ground tombs,
and later on a real funeral..
that quick shank into dirt, forceful,
terrible, everyone watching...
there's not much that's sadder than
shovel hitting dirt. Except the silence
and cold clump thereafter.