SCREECH: A Horror Poetry Collection

The Day Mom Melted

The puddle was bigger than I expected.

A bubbly, slosh of beiges. Sticking to the floor and

oozing in between the folds of cotton. Creamy lumps

spewing across the tiles,

a partially stirred condensed soup.

Fabric lay flattened in a depressed heap.

A patchwork dress of green and tan squares

immersed in slush,

buttons still fastened to the

neck hole.

Two shabby undergarments, a dismal pink,

wilt,

leaked from the skirt's underside.

Gin Rickey on the right,

straw swirling, scarcely sipped.

Leopard print glasses to the left,

arms open,

longing

for

their

head to fill the frame.