8/19/2019 Second Kill

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Second Kill

By Lilly McGee

Cain’s kiss; the drowned.

Family submerged.

 A photo blurred by stillwater.

Three merfolk asphyxiate

on the lawn.

Shadows drape a dampened dawn.

Mother’s face drips

down like wax.Father, son, hold streaked hands clasped.

Plait-hair, pleat-dress,

she’s out of water

 watching them: former (twin) (daughter).

She likes a

chlorinated crime.

They say these are the early signs.

[Gazing at the

fresh smeared space.

Drown them and the k ill’s erased.] 

Her small palms, cupped,

hold (like a plum)

a spider, crawling towards her thumb.

 And were she not

trapped by the frame,

she’d hold him up to make her claim. 

8/19/2019 Second Kill

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Coo between puckered

lips and smash

his body, ’tween her fingers gnashed. 

 With every kill she has one rule:

 wash its remains out in the pool.