When you press them down, you hear their angry little squeals.
They poked each other with their blades, spread their blood on the windows.
When she charmed worms out of the ground, she did so alone, with her wood rattler: a long stick carved with teeth, jammed deep into the earth, scraped so it sang like skeletons clattering.
After we signed, the realtor handed us a list of chimney sweeps and a pamphlet on fireplace safety, said “Watch for falling body parts,” then turned over the keys.
J– is studying at the kitchen table, pencil scribbling, lamp-lit, while the things slide in from the back yard. They slide out from holes we never noticed…… Read more “We’re Being Eaten”
She plucked the shards out one by one and stashed them in a box under her bedroom floor.
It didn’t even weep ceaselessly. The ghost didn’t throw knives or stomp or bang on the walls. No one’s toes were nibbled.
A skeletal hand was left on the seat Charise wanted. When she poked it, it scrambled under her feet.
Grasp our babies /gently, between
massive jaws / teach them / to chomp minnows / and toes
Peering inside, I saw
what might have been gray cobblestones,
rough-hewn stairs, old pitch torches
It sat on the front door stoop: one large, seeping box, addressed to both of us, and we did not remember buying such a thing. When we…… Read more “We Bought a Box of Organs”
When you leave I’ll preserve you (your memory, I mean). I’ll tuck my dreams of you away in a bed of Egyptian sand for centuries and centuries,…… Read more “A Letter from Your Love Interest (who is not an Embalmer)”