Sex and Murder Magazine

By Ed Curtis

hibernating within, she rears her head to feel
inside. did she get here, what sent her
to crouch in cerebral catacombs?
depraved artist sketching a chalk outline.

i can’t make her go away, can’t avoid
dangerous isolation.
i’ve never known anyone who summons
suffocation quite like her.

On the barren street, Kitty is just a minute from her door. snags her from behind, gashes two holes in her flesh. neighbor shouts, interrupting further damage, and Winston absconds with shreds of her back stuck to his knife.

my biggest concern is considering
the very worst.
--------i’ll make you sweat.
a buffet of cuticles.

she can be subdued. ’t yield the mind.
--------give me your mind
--------let it fall to the ground.
don’t yield the mind.

Staggering to the door, her cries freeze in the anesthetic night. turn up their radios, turn their shoulders that turn to ice.

is it over?
is she gone?