In the graveyard, after dark,
our bodies close to the bodies
that no longer walk.
In time she stands,
pulls down her skirt,
and under her finger-nail
fiddles with a bit of dirt.
In the graveyard, after dark,
our bodies close to the bodies
that no longer walk.
In time she stands,
pulls down her skirt,
and under her finger-nail
fiddles with a bit of dirt.
