Megan Norman
Bleached Bride
Dressed in stutter white,
Waiting for daddy and the kiss
In the golden light of the door.
She shook undying children
Playing the ghost again and again.
Bridled all in lace
Dancing the
Crack mosh mirror war.
A choke of bread crumbs,
A crowd of sores.
She’s eating the floor
With her hands.
She’s sick with the worms
Coughed up her bones,
All in one sitting.
Befriended a rib cage,
The blistered heart consumed.
Sick, so sick with the worms,
Heard the silverware shocks,
The clanging clocks,
In the darkway,
She’s in the darkway
Seedless,
Can’t be seen.
No more
A veiny finger to behave,
Skin to stretch over ocean stone,
Or body to desecrate
Under winter’s white blade.
Sick sick sick with the worms and the
And the birthday frosting
Slithering for more
With the bird in her mouth
The key in hand
One name to
Seal it all
Seal the clock that keeps trampling
The insides and out of
Your little bride.