The sunlight cruises down
upon the throbbing site
(marked with red tape that
dances with frivolous perfection
in imaginary winds it tries to enchant).

You can see their fractured spines grimacing
hunching up against the repentant rock, as if
cosseting
the secrets they were buried with

but brushes sweep
at whispering sand that murmurs
like gloss-stained Lolita lips,
invisible splashes
of cherry-tainted crimson
against these god-forsaken
tragedies.