Two men with shovels come
out on a full-moon night.

Two men with shovels
climb over the iron gates of the cemetery.

Two men with shovels
slink about in the shadows,
don’t wish to be seen by passersby.

Two men with shovels
come up on a fresh grave,
begin to dig.

For two men with shovels,
a day-old corpse delivered to
the basement window
in the lane off Main street
is worth at least a week’s wages.

So two men with shovels
work hard into the night.

And that noise you hear
is not the clink of skeleton feet
as they tap-dance on the tombstones.
It’s just two men with shovels.

Two men with shovels may disturb your sleep.
but not, as yet, the bed you sleep in.

— John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Stand, Washington Square Review and Rathalla Review. Latest books, “Covert” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in the McNeese Review, Santa Fe Literary Review and Open Ceilings.

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