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Blanket Graves
June 22, 2014
Lying wide awake
Engulfed in the empty darkness
Of night
--
The only light is the
Glowing red numbers on the clock
With its alarm set for morning
That will pierce through
The heavy silence
Bursting every ear drum
And shocking every heart
In the house;
But until the dead rise
Slowly, and pitifully
With the blinding, bright sun
To drown their minds in coffee;
I will listen and observe
The rumbling snores,
Like small earthquakes,
Escaping from their
Limp, and seemingly
Lifeless bodies
Buried in the heaping
Blanket graves
Where their tired bones
Rest
© Jenn H., Marblehead, MA
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