The Unloved
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When our verdict was reached and her punishment sworn, we told her that it'd be deep and she should wear something warm. Penelope still haunts our sleep: the cold, the splash the echo. Her memory, viscous and sweet, threads poison through our bones. At the end of the day, when we pulled up the rope, the only thing at the end was a scrap of her coat. We know she fell in because we pushed her ourselves. We don't know how she got out, but we wish she would tell. Penelope, where are you now? We miss you like a blister. The talks we had into the night, the fights that would draw blood. Dear frenemy, where did you go? They never found your body. We picture you, smiling and fierce, and dancing on our bones.