Nightmare Poetry

A cemetery here, a graveyard there.

No difference to any body snatcher

Where their next corpse comes from.

It could be dug up almost anywhere.

Perhaps drunken derelicts swept off

Back steps in rat-infested alleyways.

Graveyard corpses in short supply.

What about a street walker selling

More than just her smile this night?

An elderly gentleman out for a stroll,

Or grumpy old lady who'd never be 

Missed in her neighbourhood at all.

If you know a dishonest doctor or two,

Maybe you could dig up a friend or two,

And rob the graves of loved ones too.

Of course, there are costs to this job.

The law could toss you in the clink

Where you might last at most a week. 

After you're gone, your fellow accomplices

Will gladly profit off your putrid corpse

To buy each a pint in remembrance of you.