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Sex in the Cemetery
by Wendy Ruderman
She spoke of "sex in the cemetery,"
She craved symmetry,
in that cemetery.
So, he went ...
with his toothy sensuous simper
never growing bored of
her wild working ways.
She balanced herself high
up on those grey granite graves,
cackling all the while,
as his twisted fear found face
watched her shadow spill,
a black stain
over the rotting corpse
of "Miss Mary Macquee1918-1983."
The heels of her boots
clicked and clacked
against the stone
ripping the air
with sound
as she moaned "explore my catacombs."
He couldn't help himself,
he pounced his prey then,
pulling her down ...
down on a bed of dusty dirt
that powdered her face with glitter
as the moonlight rained.
Her satin hair fanned over the "Miss"
in Mary's name
and she laid layered in silence
as they had "sex in the cemetery."
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