graveyards & jellyfish & love
hide under your covers
when light goes gray
they want to be warm too
& two will share their heat:
the burning called a sting,
the warmth of flesh like a compost heap
Written in response to Big Tent Poetry’s Monday Prompt for 18 October 2010—Though I didn’t end up writing a very scary poem, I did, in accord with the prompt, begin with three frightening things.
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Fabulous scary ingredient list. I did find it a chilling poem — and enjoyed the structure and slant rhymes, too. Ending on “compost heap” is fulfilling.