Constance Poem by Jennifer Jenkins

St. Mary chimes, last breath of day
she kneels aside his box of clay,
snapping nails in soured trench
to join beloved, lost.

A crippled heart; retched moan-
'O bury me where life once shone! '
Memories scorch, blood feels cold
beneath graves' prickly frost.

Kinsmen tear, such misdeed!
Eyes once pearls now pickled beads.
The anguished gaze at foul remains
and cast a wreath in shame.

Now Mary's saplings guard their keep
and leave besotted souls to sleep
through season's mould and fragrant rain
whilst cherry blossom stain.