while watching a documentary on female serial killers

By Millie Tullis

turning the woman into battery
snap a clamp
on her funny metal hat
on her ankle. whisper Shackle,
and she remembers her name,
you shaved her head
you shaved her leg

you turn on the lights and she glows.

they said she was the child that never grew
up, seeing spirits and ghosts
in every crack
of woods, by the road
killing her father seven times over,
killing the seven johns who picked up
from the bed of their trucks
one ripped up her asshole,
poured rubbing alcohol
into her upside down,
shook her like a cocktail,
poured rubbing alcohol down her nose,
mouth, right-side up— make her sputter
like a sparkler.

the sentence was:
turn the woman into battery
into light
into that
power.

electricity to read after dark.

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Millie Tullis is a student of Philosophy and English and Utah State University.

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