Written During The Presidential Debate

Edith Stillwell, 94

Lies in Stillmouth Church Yard now.

Obese woman in Church yesterday

Did not feel well that night,

Now silently rots

In her bedroom

No one knows, no one checks

No one misses her yet,

Purple and black she turns.

 

The day has dawned, the sun visits the streets

And illuminates the pebble concrete of the shopping centre.

Lie still beautiful lover, see the new day born.

Let your hair spread on the pillow a little longer.

You are all he dreams of,

Your hips and stomach,

The firmness of your thighs.

You are young

And soon to be a mother and wife.

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