“Black Water”

A dark mess of intention,

an already-dug grave.

This was her lifeblood,

she had no one to save.

She was drowning in her own mouth.

Tongue-tied,

cast out.

Sin nipped at her elbows,

stained her handsome teeth.

She stepped on a songbird once,

his yellow throat caught beneath.

For him,

death had tasted like dried pineapple.

She buried him in the ocean,

her back to the chapel.

To her,

death was simple,

a palm full of sugar.

“Manifesto”

She crumbling in places,

too modest to lower her collar.

Not a nun,

named after a dead relative.

Paint-splattered and weeping instead.

โˆผ

In the downstairs bathroom,

she’s Roxanne.

Roxy,

to the bartender,

and Rox to the milkman.

In Disaster,

she’s just another pretty face.

โˆผ

She can’t afford a canvas,

so she uses herself.

Waste not,

want not.

She refuses to turn the light off.

There are goblins downstairs,

and bottles under the bed.

Life’s never like that,

her real name is Mary.