Over my dead body... so she did [246]

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Over my dead body... so she did

Rising from the grave
in tattered clothes
she strides into town
to ply her wares
among gentlemen
who never say no —
to escorting her home.

There among gravestones
where bare twigs reach out
to a couple embracing
one lone raven caws
—do it, do it, do it—
as fear grabs the moon.

She wants more.

He wants less
         and laughs,

over my dead body!

So she grabs her knife
and makes it so,
lips lunging
at the gushing wound,
blood dripping
as her orgasm peaks
now trickling
over her last lover's bones.

Lust sated,
she slips back beneath her stone,
a story passed down through generations,
that only the ravens know.

© Kåre Enga [177.246] (9.oktober.2020)

29 lines 'free' verse

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