all my poems are about cannibalism
in the way that every horror story is about love a girl
in a white dress a girl in a bloody dress your body
crushed against the wall like i’m gonna bite and i
might
old gold in a haunted house that remembers us
the way we eat
our skirts whisper on the floor
and they aren’t ghosts they are killers
and they aren’t killers they are girls
pretty girls tangled in cherry whip dresses
love locked out the church and sent to the slaughterhouse
your collarbones crack like we’re carving meat this is how
to make a meal
you burn a hole in my fishnets
our house is haunted not by horrors but
by us,
all these girls,
ready to feast
Featured artwork Dissection by Justine Turnbull.
