Clandestine Grave



Cradled aloft in an alcove of archives,

grey fingers clutch black through the sand-storm of dust.

Deceptive particles glimmer, distantly floating

in a slant of moonlight;

pixies hovering over box after box.



Forgotten secrets tucked out of sight:

there hides the veil shredded by moths

and lurking in this box with its lid open and its lids open

is a cat gnawed to bone by deserter's hooks.



Sweet perpetrator didn't run far,

sealed within by her own guilty heart.

Look: there's the latch and the lock but no luck;

lost is the key amidst these pixie's wings. 



So here lays the brittle skeleton that smells of decay,

her putrid stench pressing through rotten eye sockets

where spiders and wasps live in tentative harmony.

Hear the thrum of wasp wings and the spiders will gossip

as they spin silver webs

to catch the light and the dust (and occasional wasp)

as their host watches on;

silently.



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Okay, there we go. I've added in a few more lines to smooth it out and I think I'm quite pleased with the result =)