cleo (penxasmyknife) wrote in saturatedsheets,

I'm on a roll.

The Cult of Saints and Skirts
I know a place where all the girls go to get famous
Bed sheet tied to nape and poem in hand formulate her recipe
Visiting one summer past I had a sonnet of my own
And dining at a banquet in the grave, I saw their trees as tombstones

And we called them the cult of saints and skirts
The way they sparkled and dangled like chandeliers
Their bed sheets on branches still floating like Halloween ghosts
Waited to be accompanied by others wanting it the most.

I know a place where girls get famous in newspapers
For poems to be published in suburban obituaries
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