Mining Graveyards (Poem)

Her seas rise,

violent,

rowdy,

as countries shed their garments,

as fumbling hands dig,

dig,

dig for love

buried deeper than cthonic oblivion.

Deeper,

deepest,

where bodies shine like gems in the dark,

and dirt,

and stone.

Because you know star crossed lovers always wake up corpse white,

and dead.

bvk, 2020.

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