For All The Final Girls

Lay your burden length-wise

Bind his wrists with zip ties

Tell yourself:

“Don’t dwell on what he tells his wife”

You’re not the first, so what’s the fuss?

Didn’t our mother love us enough?

 

Gee, aren’t we the easy mark?

Heart left in some car park

Pinned & prone

You had to burn those clothes

Were we once lovely from the front?

Could be a cousin touched us too much

 

Lost-little-girl’s eyes

Welts that swell up plate-size

Some men just melt

& well, who could help themselves?

What awful things his bed springs sung

Hasn’t our promise cost us enough?