Portrait of a Girl Through a Filter

I lie with my legs spread on a

silver piano balancing my heart

between my knees. the blood trickles

down my skin and drips onto my

toes. don’t I look beautiful today?

my mind squeezes into dust as the

piano roars and somewhere in the

world a mirror shatters. there is a

shard of glass for every time I have

cried and for every musical note in

the world. like dust they fly over me

and perch themselves on my open

body drawing out whatever blood

is left until I am gutted and drained.

I do not think about how my

antibodies fill champagne glasses or

how my organs dangle from the

chandelier or how my exposed body

is the centerpiece of a dead banquet.

they wanted me and they will have

it. we will feast on flesh tonight.