Writer: Christine Stoddard
Models: Lucy Coleman, Nora Mosley, Helen Georgia Stoddard
lost spirits floating through the bed chamber, hungry and sad.
They sensed human dust streaming through the soft sunlight
as they flattened their hair and tied their sashes, shuddering.
The ghost's name was Maggie, Auntie Maggie of Greenville.
She liked lockets, Snow White, gray kittens, and apple butter.
The mourners recalled the cinnamon butter's sweet grittiness.
They imagined those silver lockets swinging through the air.
Snow White conquered their minds, lips smeared with fruit.
She wandered the birch-filled forest, stroking a blue-gray cat.
Auntie Maggie's face gleamed from every trunk and every leaf.
Then the mourners returned to their black lace and black velvet.
They concentrated on ribbons and bows, barrettes and gloves.
The windows cried, "Maggie! Maggie!", but the mourners said,
"Could you pass the hairbrush?" "Cousin, where's the powder?"
And they primped for the funeral as flurries fell to the ground.