Poem 1977 (4)




“Are you ready, honey?”  mumbles the Monster
“What’s that you’re doing?” she says
“Well, you know, I’m kinda out of practice. Come here little Pigeon.”
“Hey!  You big creep.”
“You shall be a Queen in the Underworld.”
“Let me go!”
Hands around her throat.

“Love is so much purer beyond the grave.”  He mutters.

Now here I am with a can of talc
expensive scent
a couple of bottles
and my carrier bag
waiting in the crypt.
Outside are fog, darkness,
a murmur of groans
that Monster coming nearer all the time.

Get ready.
It’s nearly Midnight.




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