Tiptoe so as not to wake the dead
Who slumber underfoot,
Their empty heads
Resting on mossy pillows of stone;
All their gelid dreams sour with time,
Beneath linen of soil and grass,
Under pounding paces of passersby.
At night, hear them snore and brood,
Chattering, gnashing bare bone gums;
At dawn, they roar and call and hoo,
They whistle through a naked cheek,
**** long-forgotten tunes
Through combs of dry and brittle teeth.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 7:13 PM UTC
Tiptoe so as not to wake the dead
Who slumber underfoot,
Their empty heads
Resting on mossy pillows of stone;
All their gelid dreams sour with time,
Beneath linen of soil and grass,
Under pounding paces of passersby.
At night, hear them snore and brood,
Chattering, gnashing bare bone gums;
At dawn, they roar and call and hoo,
They whistle through a naked cheek,
**** long-forgotten tunes
Through combs of dry and brittle teeth.