Benjamin Blake

Exhumer

Why must I dig up the bones of the long dead?
Fall face-first into graves opened like ulnar arteries?
Pry open the cellar door
And let these corpses stumble out
Into the morning light?

Tombs are sealed for good reason
And unmarked resting places
Should stay that way

But the folly
Of the loins and the heart
Never learns a thing
And tonight, I have a taste
For almost-forgotten flesh

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