Who died screaming, were pickled, placed in jars
with dull, defused light. Nameless, forgotten,
left in rows; cryptic as Venus or Mars.
Our sole purpose is to illustrate sin,
debauchery, and crimes against Nature.
Why come down here? Why bring your big flashlight
and sleuthing hat? What would an amateur
find here but horror? Love in defused light?
We are all someone’s lost child. Some mother’s
push and shove and sigh. Left here like a clue
to be deciphered by you; some smudge, dust,
something clever, which we are not … clever.
See? You’ll never understand us. Not you.
Not the one who turns away in disgust.