the faces of the children shrink
away, as they always do, eyes
wide, shoes abandoned in the
flowerbeds. the gate swings
back into the garden where
she dances alone, giggling through
shattered yellow teeth, cooing
as they drop
from rotted gums

darling daughter of the dead delights
in splinters from her feet from treehouses
haunted with the ghosts of friends
imaginary. her sweet soul hungers
for the laughter of the living, whispers
with a confidant, don’t you love
the smell of worms bursting through
the dirt? or the way
barren stems float against the breeze?

for now she trades sweet
whispers with stained teeth and
empty sockets uncovered by the
rain, there is comfort in the way
they gasp once more, once
more let’s
play once more.