apartment 1021

following the building
manager in, he with his master
key. tipped off and suspecting
illness or foul play, yells
out her name.
you are wide eyed,
the woman is not,
lying there stiff, arms crossed
on her bare chest.
her legs impossibly white
and straight
in a pink slip, her hair
down, still wet.
there is an ironing board
nearby holding a black
dress. work, perhaps.
she is a wax figure, yellowed
in the sunlight
coming through her
metal apartment blinds.
the police will come soon
and they will ask you questions.
you being a witness,
the second to see her,
with something like a smile
or grin, on her lips,
strangely sublime. her
cat green eyes staring off
into some distant place
beyond the wall.