inflamed, they steadily
knock at the gate ajar
their limbs long to dance
with those from afar
their gnarly fingers flail
in the stir of eve
the living and dead
this night they'll weave
their fingers grasp for
the latch to the earthy gate
impatient they are
after a long year's wait
scratching at the dirt
mad hens after worms
tossing soil and stones
into piles and berms
raps upon the caskets
their feet had disturbed
lifting off the lids
to souls quite perturbed
from putrid state and
lapsed memories they steal
and of many the graves
they've made their meal
thieves that long to revel
with their own prey
they will spur them on
until the light of day
a sordid resurrection,
they raise rotten remains
that lack this and that
some skin, a heart, brains
bones dressed in their finest
lift on sinewy strings
the swaying limbs serve
as their gruesome wings
marionettes climb from
soiled cribs in misty mire
renewed youth and hunger
any blood they'll desire
both parties uprooted
to savor a night of mirth
until the dawning ray
whence they return to earth
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