L.D.

but I heard
something:

it’s rude to stamp your feet
over someone’s grave,

the skeletal framework
shudders and curses.

But what if
your grave

is someone else? what if
the clock clicks out twelve

and you fall into her
stiff and drained?

what if you
still breathe?

what if she hears something –
the rattle-cage clang

of organs still churning,
a definite rush

of blood to
the tip –

and all that sober whump
and grind of gears goes,

au fait w/ the dead leaves,
to cover (gentle

as it knows
how) her?

will footsteps creaking on
the awning, as small

as a mouse w/ no home
in the wainscoting,

offend her
so much?

– 5 January, 2015