April Fox

In every window, there are shadows

tiny girls with paper hair and twisted legs

feet stuck out at unnatural angles

pointy elbows and crooked teeth

and eyes like telescopes, watching

everything.

They are armed with bats and chains and metal pipes

they are grown to ten feet tall

they are tongues untangled, mouths unclenched

they are smiles, vicious laughter

they are ready to unload.

They are cotton candy artillery shells

blowing up the world

aiming from the windows

and burning off their flesh.