Cemetery Sex

 
Now the leaves are blown
they seldom lock the gates  
for only crazies brave such cold  
when the sun's whimpered away  
to sulk with a bloodied nose

Only the worms do not sleep
eating all but moss and ivy
and my greenest memories  
strangling the path to you
 
If you'd known I was coming  
you'd have worn your meanest
powder blue dress  
to play weekend panty peek-a-boo
every time you  
shifted your legs
You'd have worshiped my ears  
with your tongue
got tipsy  
horny and wet  
before your red lips whispered  
Please  
carry me up to bed
 
But I could not  
call ahead--
there is no phone  
to the dead
 
So I'll tidy away the  
stem of the tired rose
and offer a kiss  
to the cold grey stone
I'll run my fingers gently  
by each letter of your name
then rest awhile
until the toss and turn  
of buried souls  
rustling like spies  
around us  
becomes still  
 
I'll wait  
until I'm certain
there's no-one but you  
until I feel your hands  
swarm up from below
a flurry of thigh and breast
the music of your moans
whirling white hot in my head
and my home sweet only home
gushes greedier than death
 
Was that better than flowers
I ask the smile in your stone
as the last of my seed  
seeps down  
through the softest earth below
wishing we could lie forever
to count the crows perched on the moon
eager to pick my bones