Yellow Dress

if i woke up from on the kitchen table and saw her standing there at the fridge pouring tomato juice into her bloody mouth, wearing nothing but that yellow dress she cut in half last halloween after walking to the river where she said the most beautiful things about dancing with the moon right before throwing up something black & fleshy-pink on the rock where i was sitting, & we walked back to eat a fried egg standing next to the stove where she would light her cigarettes swigging shady ladys, silently listening to my developing dissatisfaction & some sort of lingering love, if she was here right now, staring blankly at flies buzzing, i wouldn't be surprised, even if it has been three years since she died.