Ruth Buzzi Better Watch Her Back

Somewhere between the frozen layers sleeps a fragile woman. Waiting for her husband to remove the shards of gla*s. The sun betrays the light that it once shed. And daughter cuts the hair. Tangled in a silver brush. Spitting at a broken mirror. I feel the movement of ghosts in the room. She keeps a photograph locked in her mouth. The smell of turpentine drips from the walls. Forgive and forget. Relive and regret. You're not alone. I've seen the dead arise.