flying on her broom

I knew there were skeletons
in
her closet.

I just didn't know how many,
and how
many of them

still had flesh on their bones
and were
texting her night and day.

it was Halloween year round.
lots of
creaking floors,

closet doors closed,
secrets unburied
in so many tombs.

I lost count of her
left over lovers, the shadows
in the yard

that she'd meet at the park,
flying on her broom.