she got out of bed
and waited for her life to end
*
watched people talk about things on television
that she never dared to address herself
*
at some point the open truth became more comfortable
she stopped bothering to swipe everything under the rug
*
here’s the dirt, rub your faces in it
take me home
*
finally the outside matched the inside
a woman waiting in her bed
*
a house that was torn apart by loss and abandonment
snapshot memories decorating a photo album
*
time unburied the truth, time showed up on people’s faces
everything undocumented, unmentioned
*
the oversized house, its beauty decayed
her eyes had death in them
*
she had already seen the other side
her body jumped up
*
bring me back
who she was had vanished from her face
*
was it her body that meant so much to me
or was it her apart from all the distractions
*
was it not her
her powdery scent, her worker’s hands, her sweet tooth
and her charming ways
*
what she wasn’t she left behind
and what she had always been had never left
*
she walks with me, weightlessly
and her voice is still the same
*
we chose one another somewhere else
she buried herself inside of her body
and planned her own funeral at the breakfast table
and waited, fascinated by her own death
Croque-Melpomene 