Seven

She says murder on Monday.
They say shut your mouth and turn away.

She jumps off the roof on Tuesday.
Her arm breaks in three places and she doesn’t scream.

She takes a bite out of a cloud on Wednesday.
It is tasteless but burns in her throat.

She dances with lightning on Thursday.
It calls her Suzie and she hitches up her skirt.

She runs with wolves on Friday.
They lick her wounds clean and she lures in the prey.

She says saviour on Saturday.
They say play careful dear and pat her hand.

She goes to the bloodletting on Sunday.
They cut three times and she falls asleep.

By Ivana Rnjak