Sprawling from the floorboards, the monochrome floorboards, sounds of a dead girl singing.
content warnings: death
Sprawling from the floorboards,
the monochrome floorboards,
sounds of a dead girl singing.
It belonged to the house.
The house with the girl, the house with the
monochrome floorboards.
Some called it the black coffin.
Now, peer into the coffin,
testify to its contents—
the many, many ridges
of a human spine.
(Into the house of Mason & Hamlin)
The autopsy takes note
of sharp staccato beats
pumping a syncopated rhythm.
The embalmer, with whispered breath:
“The spine is still dancing.”
Metronome coroner,
he walks back and forth
and finally concludes
what was under the floorboards.
Pour forth from spines,
the dead girl singing,
pedalling back, asking you,
again, and again,
Does this strike a chord?