Departing Madness

The memories my friends carried
with them when they left
are fraying like the edges of my dress.

To avoid looking old,
I will attempt metamorphosis
with a single tear.

When I received a putrid kiss
from my immortal grandfather
I realized he had been dead for centuries.

In pursuit of other spells,
I count the number of corpses
devoid of love—
for every woman endows her daughter
with subversive rhetoric;
like a will left discarded
with the neighbors.

Every ten seconds
my mother scolds my father:
"This engagement ring is not right for me,"
even though it's been fifteen years since he bought it.