Digging It

We were in bed when she said,
I have the body of a twenty five year old man.
I froze,
while she dozed,
the whore,
are the smells coming through the floor?
Did I lock the cellar door?
Did I disclose,
post coitus,
with interlocking toes,
the reasons for the loitering stains,
that despite the bleach
still remain,
exclaiming mistakes made,
patio's paved over shallow graves
left over bones
in wood burners grown cold
my fondness for lime in buckets,
fuck it,
may have blown my cover
My lover sleeps
while I'm digging deep,
stripped to the waist with spade and pick
slick sweat dripping,
coin flipping
asking fate,
waiting for the funny voices
to provide the choices
for my latest bride
Conceding the need
to conceal my deed
in a backyard
overgrown
and woven with weeds