Floating, Brilliant, Gone

but i’ve been watching from the slaughterhouse ever since you named me edible.

Not every house is haunted.

call it a siren, a hungry cat, anything that’s learned to imitate a crying child to get what it needs.

Bury the boys who look like your brother and wrap yourself around a picket fence to whom you will only ever be a dream.

There are many ways to hold water without being called a vase. To drink all the history until it is your only song.

How the dog knows why it’s kicked, declawed by what it calls friend.

He is here and loves me. And that’s the first and last reason.

I’ve never seen death streak across the sky of a loved one’s face – just mapped out the craters it leaves

Everyone loves a dead girl.