Songs for Lost Girls #2 (with mood board)

Daddy says there’s nothing prettier
than a pretty girl with a rifle.
His hand resting at the back
of my neck, caked in dirt
and sweat. In Nebraska there
are bodies in the corn mazes.
Corpses of flies in the colander,
that time you opened me like a fish,
painting the jewelry of my body,
the rooms of my abuse.
The sad little eskimo on the shelf,
watching as you lick
salt from my lips. I’ll
drape myself over the broken tractor
in the overgrown wheat field.
Let your head fall in my lap.
In my mind writing notes to the dead,
laying out dresses for all the funerals.