We begin the day with two female corpses—
Arlene Ang
and drizzle taking away part of the evidence.
No one saw anything, but a dog remains chained
to the fire hydrant. One side of the car
has been spray-painted into a candy dish
containing human eyes. The other has more to say:
The body is a prison uniform. Get rid of it.
Prim headless dolls, dressed in lace
and the smell of bleach, occupy the backseat.
The photographer shows us a snapshot
of the trunk. His best work to date. How we cut
each other into pieces in order to capture
humanity. Our clothes weigh heavy, drugged with rain.
The moment we see the women, we know
we’ve always belonged to them.
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