dappled sun masks pulseless veins
catch her shouldered corpses
the fiery fingers set the flame
her stunning molder
mocks the waiting worms
all her breathless lovers
believers
of beautiful death
embrace the dark eventual
what is left
the harlot bares her branches
to eyes-wide biting night
where the crisp of bones fragment
beneath secret feet and lift
their dust howls in the truth
of autumn\'s moon
that cannot hide
below her scattering dress
this patient haunting
where their skeletons
moan lower
in some places
lover
if you will dig me deep enough
you will find the moss damp
where I will only sleep
until panting winds
quicken me to twine
once more around your limbs
and rise
your vernal Lazarus