blood on her hands 
waste at her feet
I wish you could see- 
-if you could be
me

her beneath me and around me
her cry must be heard 
across the street
no one came
no one saw anything

but I wish anyone but me could see
and die inside like me
and be curious to see

that two plain women 
should meet: one sad 
one obsolete

I slip and slip in my myriad mind 
though wet red slowly runs...
she'd been rotting 
while I sleep 
with her body next to me

playing dolls
hide and seek
with a corpse that seeps 
watercolor composed in red 
while I sleep
with my body next to me

and I can't peek

two plain women- no none
but me
me the drained dead
me watching me.