Candy cigarette trembling in her haunted hand,
adorable secrets loosely locked
in that smiling sin vault,
her giddy little-girl laugh track loops,
like a busy signal when you phone
the emergency room.
She’s mine now, all mine.
Sweet ghost lounging
beneath the cool avalanche of starched sheets,
she’s naked as a cupcake on death’s island.
This isn’t the first time
I’ve shopped for tombstones
at Toys R Us.
Appeared in A Touch of Saccharine Anthology, Kind of a Hurricane Press, 2014
