The White Grave

Secret lives
Belong to the inhuman
Restless beds under sleepless rains
Deeds that they unveil and devour

Whilst they order the others to rest
In peace
As the shadows lurk amongst the deadened tombs
A midnight flutter of cloth

The confluence of the unearthly
Yet, as they circle and shun (with hooded eyes)
The luminescence of a perfect circle
A desperate boy nurses himself

And beckons
Only to find that he is the devil who dwells
In the white grave