Madame Ellie Mae Williams Davis began a tiny little poem
Six pounds three ounces of song
Eyes of shallow waters
And pale simpering flesh
All others fell in her father’s eyes
At seventeen her stanzas broke hearts
Brought grown men to weep
Stopped Studebakers on
She drained malteds and Cherry Coke
And dreamed of a watercolor tomorrow
At twenty three she combined with another work
Two verses together
Forming a couplet
From them sprung little inspirations
At ninety two she is slender and willowy and white
She pants with tongue dry and cracked
Back arching into me
Spongy lungs engorged
She no longer leans towards tomorrow
She falls back to the past
I watch her climax in front of me
She screams like a baby
“No no no no” horrible “no”
While she recapturing her youth
I will violate her death
I open her gates
Insert the tube to feed her breath
I pierce her with needles and pipes
When her poem ends
Endings are the most difficult part of any work
A return to the dominant chord
As the last echoes of her melody fade away
I write
“Time of death, 3:15 am”
-e2k.7
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