Night Work


By Meg Sorick

Silence descends in the forest
At the snap of twigs beneath boots
The burden grows ever more heavy
While carefully avoiding tree roots

This menial task is performed
Under deepest cover of night
With great exertion and haste
The toiler must keep out of sight

As milky eyes stare up blankly
And porcelain skin seems to glow
Cool flesh, ragged nails and torn clothing
Beneath the loamy soil, sink low

Then with the deed finally done
Straighten up, breathe deep and be brave
Leave the girl’s corpse to rot slowly
In her exclusive woodland grave

Inspired by the illustration of Harry Clarke for Tales of Mystery and Imagination by Edgar Allen Poe.



91 thoughts on “Night Work

      1. I’m slowly perusing these gruesome illustrations. They’re as amazing and terrifying as I remember. The book is rather dank and musty smelling though. I’m probably poisoning myself.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Excellent poem! And it wasn’t until the end as I slowly scrolled down the image, thinking “oh that’s really pret–ack! Corpse-dragging!” Haha, caught me by surprise. Although, it probably shouldn’t’ have! ๐Ÿ˜‰

    Liked by 2 people

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