Her eyes gaze at
a lady with implanted hair
across rosé cheeks,
screws spiking
children’s necks,
Egyptian bands
enrolling firefighters’ bodies,
cliché bloody teeth
coming from my gums.
“It this Halloween,
daddy?”
We tell our children:
“Lies often have shorter legs.”
How can I
tell her this is not?
Should I tell her
the lady has hypertrichosis
which her insurance won’t cover?
Her childhood peers
were murdered by the soon-to-be serial killer?
The mighty Estate
won’t assist His more-burnt burdens than heroes?
My company
is moving towards tax-breaks?
