There’s a body in the basement.
Smells of musk and lizards crawling
over fleshy pale hands that look like
they just lost an apple.

Aspirin-laced wine, just a half a bottle
(of each) poured in one by one, just a
gentle twist of the spoon with a rose
on its handle.

The door had left its hinges, no more
privacy? What’s that? When you’ve got
nothing that they want because you
keep it for yourself.

She’d started loving him, singing his name
into his shoulder, tussled hair and candy,
stars, and mother was always the jealous
one until he left them all.

But now they’ll rest together, in the grave
yard with the sun just hanging there day
after day and nobody can tell that it was
anything but fate.