Tabitha
And when you died, dear Tabitha, you were Spirited away to Paradise that The righteous might learn by your kindly smile, How Almighty God had smiled on you. She put down her pen on the laundromat Counter. The customer needed change. “You’ve got a great smile,” the girl remarked, Accepting the coins. “Thanks,” Tabitha said. Full-figured, friendless, no family, no home, Her abusive dead parents had taught her To lie: “Hide life’s knocks behind a sly smile.” God frowns on fat fucks as false-hearted as I. She trusted no one; had never known love. “Two months,” the doctor said. “No more.” She tore the page, weeping, But smiled so sweetly, Toe-tagged in the room With its sanitized floor.
How hopeful this started out, and then, very quickly, caught and destroyed those hopes. I enjoyed it.
Daniel, I find this begins sharp like a surgeons scalpel and seeming hopefully compassionate, but falls into a hopeless and futureless tragedy, almost all too real.