The Autopsy Report of Liza Smith (Death Investigation 2004)

A sound house, no home

I stole a beaten pillow

From a homeless man,

Whispered I wanted his

Disease

Spreading through

My fingers tips and

Growing out with

My nails

Talons

Stalking the gaps of

Illiff Road, ready

To feed

Devour the wood of the fence

And the buds

Of flowers that never

Bloom, to soothe

My broken teeth

In hopes

They would stay rooted and

I’ll never have to catch

Them in the sink

Pipe of a brothel

I fed on, nibbling

The bands of wedding rings

And the glass that reminded

Me of watermelon

Jolly Ranchers

Puckering my

Lips, so the taste

Of fresh batteries could sit

On my tongue, licking wet

Cement,

So the world would know

I was there

Inhaling the exhaust

Of my dealer’s BMW

Moon-kissed and struck

In the face with

Acid

My lips curved

Into the last O

Of the Good

Lord’s prayer

And that is how they

Found me, tangled

In the telephone wire

Nearby, with my cheek busted

Open, a smile

Only claws (Talons)

Could create

AHJA FOX attends Arapahoe Community College and is the president of Writers Studio Student Club; she is also the recipient of the 2016 Writer's Studio Scholarship. Aside from her writing goals, she hopes to open a dance studio that caters to children and the disabled.