genre 2
Poetry by Michael B. Tager

Marilyn Haunting

Marilyn wakes
eats corn flakes from
chipped ceramic bowl
a bougie mansion’s abandoned kitchen

Marilyn sings into the void
claws her hair
into ringlets of ice
she knows she blazes

Marilyn waves
on the way to the grocery store
she’s still famous and the banshee in the kangol,
the turnip-worshiping shade lose their tongues

Marilyn wings it every day
homeless undead, no PO Box
she follows a retiree from the produce section
sits shotgun, enjoys Patsy Cline

Marilyn takes Ambien with ethereal fingers
watching Law & Order
over old folks’ fragile shoulders
she sparkles at every solved mystery

Marilyn sleeps on a sofa
praying to the sun and moon and to Death
(clearly on sabbatical)

Marilyn wakes
eats oatmeal
in the kitchen; “Hi, I’m Norma, hello hello”
and they only see the wall through her ribcage
Michael B. Tager is a writer and editor. He's been published most recently in Necessary Fiction, Pidgeonholes, Hobart, and Barrelhouse. He thinks the Oxford Comma is for suckers.
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