(I'm a tad disappointed that Shenan was too busy to write more poems for YVIAHMMAOIHTNQ:Y2, but at least we're going out with a good one. This third and final poem is about Tourist Trap, a favorite of mine that I discovered last Halloween. It's a good poem and it references the infamous "Crackers Scene" that we all know and love. Shenan wanted me to note that this poem is written from the perspective of the killer, addressed to both his wife and the heroine of the film that he believes looks like his wife. Enjoy!)
You look just like a child,
hair like feathers, floating
down around your head, your tiny skull
weightless on the pillow.
Your lips kiss lightly,
still enough to just depart for sleep,
with one eye open slightly still, gazing
back as if to spring alive
at any hint of rising light combusting
in the distance, ready to return
to sparkling dynamism,
to the world of morning,
where your toys and dolls await you.
We’re not so different.
You spun in circles once,
arms outstretched, believing if they reached
out far enough, the tiny hands clenched at their end
would change from plastic,
porcelain, or plaster,
become warm flesh between your fingers.
All I want is to dance again with you,
my sweet girl,
breath warmth into your skin
as the soft white latex glop
burns into others’ flesh.
There’s no amount of fire
in the world I’ve found yet
that could reignite you;
the heat that boils
behind my eyes can only animate,
can’t cross the bridge between us,
can’t carry you to me.
So I don my plaster head,
and opt to join your world instead,
sitting down as we would often do
to sup on soup and crackers for two.