Murderabilia
Christmastime, and the promise of trinkets is here
with the peril of discovery, under the tree
is a chance to see if they really understand me.
What is my stocking stuffed with?
My requests, or their dream of what they wish I would be?
Thanks Mom and Dad, I am relieved you get it
by giving me what I asked for on the list.
I rip away bows and slash open boxes with a razor
and there is another piece of paraphernalia
you found by following the clues I left for you online.
Here is a cigarette lighter, a clump of hair,
an oil painting of a sad clown stuck outside a circus tent,
a vial of dirt from a vile one’s grave,
along with mugshots and fingerprint samples
bundled with x-rays taken by a prison hospital of a skull.
Each one is authenticated and signed.
It feels amazing to trace my fingers over their names,
the loops reminding me of their nooses.
It may be strange, but they are cheaper than actors,
infamous is still famous, and collections are connections.
Ben Nardolilli currently lives in New York City. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, The Northampton Review, Local Train Magazine, The Minetta Review, and Yes, Poetry. He blogs at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com and is trying to publish his novels.
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