Coroner’s Corona Over Lady’s Viennese Trees

Coroners Corona Over Ladys Viennese Trees prose poem

Photo by vintage_queen

Titles, titles, titles, all she won was titles
Lengthening her debuts at piano recitals
Lengthening the doctor’s verification of her vitals
Narrowing her gape
Her cosmopolitics tightening
‘Til all was television and art-deco sex
Her untangling the day’s trinkets from her hair
A doll in her likeness
A ship in a bottle
A due date on a scalpel she had borrowed to cut open those so debonair
As to question her
And see what secrets they housed
She was ultimately disappointed and retired to the ice cream parlor to mince
Sugar and salt as treats for her charismatic pets
Growing boring to her
And minimizing to clay holding the joints in Lady’s armor suits from buckling
She started to distrust the eyes
As all her smug flattery and shortbread couldn’t see inside

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