Camel
She said on Sunday
she
stood and watched the
zoo’s camel lying on the
ground, twisting its lips
into funny positions,
making the ground laugh
until the peacocks squeal
pulled them to watch.
Then they went to the
reptile house. Four
hours later, they saw
the camel in the same
position with another
crowd watching and
pointing at it. Dark clouds
were forming. It was
thundering. She said when
she heard the camel died
a day later she wondered
how she hadn’t noticed
it hadn’t moved in 4 hours,
how she could have been
oblivious to the suffering
the gentle two humped
beast, how the zoo keepers
hadn’t noticed either as
I wonder how you,
cupping your ears when
I was talking, in pain
couldn’t tell
Dead Girls,
Dying Girls (1)
no publicist could
get them as much.
They’re on the air,
on Santa’s lap,
in a costume with
a funny mask. The
girls are known
by their first names
like rock stars or
actresses. They
smile with a fake
nose at a birthday
party hugging a dog.
Their DNA stains
upholstery, is under
the last fingers that
tightened around them
Dead Girls,
Dying Girls (2)
we know them
by their first names,
famous as Marilyn
or Elvis or Jackie.
When they die young
they will always be
beauties, hugging a
pet. Each his her own
special smile you
can’t imagine anyone
disturbing. One wears
snuggly pink p.j’s
she is carried off in
the night in by the
monster of darkness.
These girls are on the
air, the bedrooms
they almost grew up
in are burned into us
Dead Girls,
Dying Girls (3)
they are always the
smiling ones, the ones
you can’t imagine
anything bad could
could happen to.
Their white teeth
gleam, curls jaunty
as their grin, often
on the verge of a
giggle. They are the
girls you’d choose
if they were in a super
market aisle, picked
to be hugged and
spoiled. Some are
kissing a dog, a doll,
a baby brother. You
want to kiss them,
want their photographs
to dissolve into flesh.
You want them to
walk back in thru their
parents door though
they rarely do
Dear Girls,
Dying Girls (1)
they hypnotize, one
shot on TV and you’re
in their thrall. You
want to know more.
You want to join a
search party. If there
is someone who has
hog tied them and
done terrible things
you are ready to
pull the trigger. The
dead girls will always
be virginal, holy. Their
perfect skin and smile
will stay. No publicist
could do this for you.
Known for ages it
seems by their first
names, someone will
discover a hand sticking
up from a shallow
grave and even that
startling scene will
have its own beauty
undetected in even
a Hitchcock film
Dead Girls,
Dying Girls (5)
usually they leave
quietly in the night.
No dogs bark, no
cut glass shatters.
Or maybe, on a fall
day they walk home
thru dry leaves. Their
first names are full
of sun as their smiles.
For weeks they are as
famous as Marilyn or
Madonna or Jackie.
Like any horror story,
they make us feel
scared but safe. Tho
the dead girls got the
role, anyone might be
in their place, on the
news every night, stars
that burn out fast
Dead Girls,
Dying Girls (6)
usually they leave
quietly in the night.
No dogs bark, no
cut glass shatters.
Or maybe, on a fall
day they walk home
thru dry leaves. Their
first names are full
of sun as their smiles.
For weeks they are as
famous as Marilyn or
Madonna or Jackie.
Like any horror story,
they make us feel
scared but safe. Tho
the dead girls got the
role, anyone might be
in their place, on the
news every night, stars
that explode in our
living room then
burn out fast
Dear Girls,
Dying Girls (2)
there are never
ambulances,
they’d be too late. Usually
there’s a pick up truck,
an old rusty trailer in the
background. The girls have
bangs cover enormous eyes.
Jessica, Samantha, Meagan,
no Berthas or Myrtles.
The bodies are found and
identified later. Sometimes a
mother’s boyfriend is the
murderer, or a family friend.
None of the girls aren’t
beauties and will
always be
Dead Girls,
Dying Girls (7)
alerts and posters
bloom like lilies
“I always knew she’d
come home,” some
one moans over
a coffee cup.”
”Thank you, all of you,
anyone who has put
hand on a flyer, all
of you who didn’t know
her.” Everyone cries at the
grave. “Someone has taken
this away. I’m a simple
man,” her father says
“I had a simple life. The
children are all we have.”
Dead Girls,
Dying Girls (8)
they are special,
they are all that
matter for days.
Their faces as
familiar as Shirley
Temple. In face, they
resemble the child
star, could play the
same parts. Their
clothes are pink,
often, like one’s bed
room, or lavender.
They hold a doll, a
pink toy in a photo
graph on air waves
as quickly distributed
as Shirley Temple was
Dead Girls,
Dying Girls (9)
they are special,
they are all that
matter for days.
Their faces as
familiar as Shirley
Temple. In face, they
resemble the child
star, could play the
same parts. Their
clothes are pink,
often, like one’s bed
room, or lavender.
They hold a doll, a
pink toy in a photo
graph on air waves
as quickly distributed
as Shirley Temple was
but almost always with
the same ending
Dead Girls,
Dying Girls (10)
before they show up
their smile is plastered
on air waves, on posters,
on trees. They are
on flyers those relieved
it isn’t their daughter
will trample thru streets
and leaves to post,
almost guilty this time
death has passed them by.
The dead girls are special,
are beauties. Their smile
lit up the greyness they
walked thru, made the
ordinary glow. For the
moment, no one could want
more than what they
can’t have back
Dead Girl,
Dying Girl (11)
they are always in
demand on the news.
Often in a pink dress
in photographs of
pink rooms. Dead
girls are pure
to imagine hog
tied and slaughtered.
You don’t want to
imagine the plot
but do. Even
dead or about to be
dead, these girls are
beauties. They can’t
help being so special,
so adored and
riveting . The living,
alive girls hand out
flyers for days,
walk thru muddy fields
then send up balloons
at her grave
Dead Girl,
Dying Girl (1)
they are always in
demand on the news.
Often in a pink dress
in photographs of
pink rooms. Dead
girls are pure
to imagine hog
tied and slaughtered.
You don’t want to
imagine the plot
but do. Even
dead or about to be
dead, these girls are
beauties. They can’t
help being so special,
so adored, riveting
Dead Girls
Later they’ll bring
pink teddy bears to their graves,
let balloons go
like doves to show
they care. The dead girls
are famous, they
can’t help it. On TV
their smiles, perfect skin and
teeth captivate. A
tiny beauty curled next to
their dog tugs from
from pink bedrooms.
Nothing is sweeter than the
young dead girls
