Electric air bristles with revulsion
Quiet enough for a dropped pin
The world has outgrown sideshows
At least our consciences like to pretend
Truth be told we’re not very far from the freak
shows we’ve only added a markup language spin
Penny Dreadfuls have morphed into podcasts
That teach us it’s never a mannequin
Late of Mary Lynch, an unassuming volume awaits us
Deeply tanned and bound in its curio of sin
We crowd as close as souvenir hunters under the gallows’ shadow
Our flesh undulating for a glimpse of forbidden skin
From gruesome to wisdom
the mind flinches free of its voyeur glory
Grasping one could hold all that’s left of a woman
and still never know her version of the story
circularstaircase 