Ballarat Poem by Sarah Elizabeth Clark

Last night I dreamt of snakes.
Now I roam a cemetery,
full of ancient young skeletons.

I imagine snakes coiled up,
slithering out from the cracked tombs
to bite me so that I might join the dead.

But instead I spy a pair of lizards,
sunning themselves on the ruins.
I loved lizards once, as a child.

It feels like a promise that I can return,
leave the cemetery, go home
and regain my happiness.

After all, who cares for the dead,
in their dilapidated crypts
and their decaying coffins?

Rusted iron, wrecked headstones,
still standing so that strangers
may wander and wonder.