Monday, November 28, 2011

POEM: Portrait of a Dead Woman

Toenails yellowed and still growing after death
Legs bare and hanging over the bed edge
Grey skin flapped limply from the bones
Her arms as thin as curtain rods folded cross her chest
As though she was still cold

Shoulder blades like plows
Facial skin sunken in her skull like cloth
Teeth yawing like a town fool
Blue eyes staring a little too widely up
But hair--ah, the hair still braided prettily.


  1. Oh man. This ending is so unpredictable yet really powerful in a chilling sort of way. I really enjoyed this one.

  2. Thanks Portia! When I posted this one I wondered if I would get labeled as a weirdo. But I am trying to remind everyone about the temporariness of the material world.