The cemetery is alive,
more alive than
the lofty woods that
glower around it,
than dining halls
that pump
bodies like blood vessels,
in an out — flex and
release
here, in the heat
the cemetery smells sweet,
perhaps a morbid
sort of attraction —
yet still she sits against
the headstone,
married to life
that was once,
once was.
© 2016 Stellular Scribe
Stellular Scribe 
Again, this reminds me of the romantic poets. I also love morbid poems; they always seem the more beautiful. My favorite line was “than dining halls/ that pump/ bodies like blood vessels.” It’s quite an original description. And the sudden rhyme in the middle stanza: was that intentional? It speeds up the meter and then slows it down the next two lines. Thought that was rather clever.
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It’s funny, when in the midst of writing, I don’t really think about intention. It just felt right in the moment. Thanks for your kind comments! 🙂
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