we hear you –

we hear your dead crying out through the earth ,

mourning as your bodies crumble and decay to match your souls.

your misery kisses our feet like waves,

and we raise our heads to the sky, in triumph.

why such sadness, when your skin is dyed to match ours?

when you lose your precious warmth,

when the tide of your blood has stilled in the absence of your moon heart.

we dress in your corpses, mimic your pale ruined bodies,

rich and cold and sick.

and don't we look like bone, won't we tear like flesh –

smooth and damp to touch, like your dead hands.

but our feet are rooted still in the surface of your graves;

it is your life we suck and dredge from the soil,

gathering quiet in the dark and hiding our faces,

to laugh.