February Angst
On the night of the full hunger moon she swallowed her mother. There was some quiet then and hoary frost into late morning. She was still hungry. She ate the unfinished puzzle on the card table by her mother’s empty recliner. Silence began to fill her up. She washed tobacco-yellowed curtains in boiling water before wolfing them down to let in radiant snowlight. The chair and loud granny-square afghan she devoured with spring melt water. In the hush she listened to rabbits nibble in their hutches in the barn. 
Februry Angst
Girl at Nine and Again at Thirteen
Rouse