CYANIDE DREAMER

while under the guise of metamorphosis

lady of the inverted smile, mona lisa, picnics in the shadow of the hesperides, picking ripe apple seeds from her hair. strewn deliberately upon the fertile earth, these cinnamon-eyed tokens are instead swallowed by ravenous crows; 

but lo!
from worm-eaten wings are birthed seven shining maidens with golden teeth and arsenic in the marrow of their green bones. boys no younger than fifty-one flock nearby, a question gnawing at their bellies: what does art taste like? 

(i've heard that the dandelions that grow upon their graves will whisper the answer to you if you've watered them with champagne.) 

so, graciously, the manufactured pixies alight upon the greedy mouths, and after granting three wishes, discover the theft of their malleable teeth. their rich smiles having been stolen, the bitter-throated damsels lick pitiful gazes off the mirrors at the château de versailles. selfless narcissus bathing in a puddle under the louvre beckons them to join with a song he pulled, like a gasping fish, out of the seine. 

once more, the cyanide-intoxicated nymphs oblige, but the moment his eyes prick the diluted reflection resting upon the riverbed, they shed their illusory skins as oil slicks on the water's surface.