“It took the embalmer three days to prepare your body.

He removed a half moon of flesh from the base

of your hairline; sutured it as tight as your corset

to reduce the postmortem swelling of your pretty little neck.

Those infamous breasts deflated as a result of the autopsy.

Under your favorite chartreuse dress, you were stuffed

like a doll with scraps of cotton.

Marilyn, you were our first wet dream, our first taste of sweat.

Your lips pursed like two virgins shivering in anticipation.

We knew you were a good kisser just by looking at you –

the kind of woman who made wives dig their nails

into the forearms of their husbands.

When did you start believing you looked better in photographs?

You were found naked in bed, clutching a telephone,

flat-line dial tone singing you to sleep.

We all pretended you were trying to call us”