Good Girls Don’t Sparkle — by Angela Sylvaine

Watts and Freeman promised

to help sad, old Sallie with her

smile infected by death 

Two holes send anxiety oozing, whiff

of burnt hair and bone, now she 

draws pretty pictures, gifted 

a life without worry

America’s Royal Family, tarnished

by the imperfection

of Rosemary’s desire, Father Joe

finds the miracle cure, much 

faster than pills or patience 

Her skull took the drill though

she was never asked, no

more walking or talking, poor

lost sister shut away

These quiet girls are such a 

gift that Freeman unveils a new way

Electroshock to give them a 

knock, then dual shiny ice picks 

fit just so in the corner of the 

eye, a simple hammer and 

twist, copper smelling tears trickle, 

no worse than a pulled tooth

The doctor barker shouts, 

Step right up ladies and calm way 

down, ten minutes and cab fare is 

all it takes, no mask or gloves for 

the showman but plenty big smiles 

for a camera flash 

Come one, come all and see−

My good girls don’t sparkle

AUTHOR BIO:

Angela Sylvaine is a self-proclaimed cheerful goth who still believes in monsters. Her debut novella, Chopping Spree, an homage to 1980s slashers and mall culture, is available now. Her short fiction has appeared in various publications and anthologies, including Places We Fear to Tread and What One Wouldn’t Do. A North Dakota girl transplanted to Colorado, she lives with her sweetheart and three creepy cats on the front range of the Rockies. You can find her online angelasylvaine.com.