Julie stared at her hand—
An arctic starfish of frozen extremities.

June felt her hair—
Hanging straight in the loom of antiquated clips.

May rolled to the bakery—
Her complexion is ruddy like a rose— bobbing over the open top
of her anorexic two seater— vomiting pollution into the town she
idles in— smiling.

April showers her sister with gifts.
Her sister is bulging pregnantly in a stretchy blue shirt. She’s about to burst pale, purple, blueberry baby guts, April imagines, fronting her delight
over jealous leaves of poison that loom behind the dark gloom
of menace gathering in her green eyes. She hands her sister another gift.