One Poem by Susan H Evans

 

Diminishing Returns

The black cedars won’t tell.

They merely murmur to a blue sky.

Aware, observant, they guard the Villa Bruschetti.

A crimson geranium petal, like a blood droplet,

appears on the pale, yellow fence surrounding the terrace.

Small, stone pebbles and white ceramic --

gone to pieces --

hide under Linden trunks.

The cedars know

that pressed against stone and marble,

the villa’s perished generations

Unfurl like the pink ribbons, untwist

like the wiry leaves and glassy-eyed flowers

around the fluted arms of the vintage chandelier hanging

from a gold chain,

and uncoil like the ivied frescos that twirl around the arches

and columns of the loggia.

They cluster together and watch us from atop the wide luna marble staircase,

and follow us down long, dark, cupboarded hallways.

Their children’s laughter echoes along shady paths;

the soccer net hangs in tissue-shreds, like a web, trapping the red ball 

abandoned under twisted branches.

Corsica pine hulls twitch under brown faded leaves below my green shuttered window; 

as do I,

half-sleeping, clutching an amber bead, and praying a protective spell,

fearing the woman in the red dress

or the man holding a boy’s hand may appear at 2:00 am, uninvited guests. 

These walls have doors.

The graves hold them here, refusing to quicken them,

These ones desiring flesh and blood,

wanting to waltz on the terrace, dine on la veranda, 

and picnic in the field of red poppies and buttercups.

The woman in the red dress bristles impatiently, smoothing her dress, 

and the man and the boy gaze longingly towards the bay trees.

My green shuttered window shivers and slams shut, 

while raucous quails skulk around in the undergrowth 

and screech a forgotten song

of high villa days and endless golden Tuscan sunsets

over the shuddering black silent cedars and dripping olive trees;

These trapped generations, like the smoky flame

from the tallow candles, hoped never to be smothered out.

Susan H Evans - lives in Baltimore, Maryland, and enjoys writing poetry, creative nonfiction, and memoir.  Susan is published in many online and printed journals and magazines.