A Terrible Shock

The dead man went out to play,
and, at the end of the weary day,
he smiled his ghoul smile at me.
I smiled back, for I could see
to feign my ignorance of what I saw—
by grinning, mask my fear and awe—
it was the only way to save my head
or surely too, I would be dead.

He waved a white and maggotful hand
I waved back, but could barely stand
my knees were knocking neath the fence
and hidden by, I kept pretense.

He turned and went back to his hole
and quickly, down the road, I stole,
I ran as fast as I could run
and didn’t stop till I was done.