From Home, Audrey Rauth Because Bluebird is Real, Molly Thompson (cont

You open your eyes and you feel alone. You are always alone: quickly close the closet doors. The fallen corpses you put back in, inside the little drawers. Stack them: head to toe, head to toe. Your nose stings from wives past, Your heart burns for wives future, But feel nothing at all for the wife present.

Bed sheets crinkle, wardrobe shakes, The whole room feels thoroughly unsafe. So throw yourself in another’s arms wherever blood stains fail to show.

And Lady Macbeth, sweet old woman, whose nightly habits don’t disturb you-- You wake with her, for you have new habits too. Wash her hands, wash your back, scrub the bloody floor clean. Check the lock, change the light, Make sure to close the little door tight.

So give a smile to Laura’s power, the goblin’s fruit has all turned sour stop calling! I do not wish to dine today.