Tulum

Iguanas in all sizes waddle from limestone ruins,
stunted palms, up skinny steps to broken temples.

We squeeze our large, American bodies
through ancient gates, tiny stone tunnels.

Mayan gods in blurry relief decorate fading walls,
falling facades, having outlived their original sculptors.

A shattered tower still overlooks dark cliffs,
slanting trees, Caribbean breakers.

Rainclouds bubble toward open seas.
We wander and wonder.

Chubby tourists now shriek and frolic
where warriors once unloaded their canoes,

Cameras and tour guides capture only hints
of an overthrown culture.

February 2012