Cecilia

It always begins in decrepit houses.
Soon I will taste of pain
and licorice.
The children’s caskets
bathed in yellow, yellow
roses. Their innocent petals.
In your eyes I see peek-shows
and pornos.
All glitter eye lashes
and transparent heels.
I pour myself
into the fractured aquarium
where infant girls swim the interior.
That time your car smelled
like my father's.
Slightly drunk, leather
slightly worn by the press
of women's thighs.
I dribble ripped panties
into the washer, my jeans
so tight they won’t
let me breathe.
Only at night do I see
my grandmother for what she was.
A styrofoam head
blanched lovely by despair,
eyebrows fine as pencil lines.
Mother murdering us
with her kept secrets.
Dark tales, dark tastes
for blood and boys.