 Photo by Elford Alley. No flowers grow there, just glass eyes Glaring out of the dirt The tops of their porcelain heads peeking Through Babydoll submarines Mouths full of mud Limbs woven with weeds Tiny fingers Tiny toes Untouched What secrets planted there? What suffering Can be inflicted On ones so small and still? No little hearts to stop. No graves Save For rocks and stones Spilled like milk Gone sour in a swollen breast Untouched Little babies Little lambs Little dolls. The dog has defecated here The headstones have been disturbed Defiled The sacred ground made profane. Nothing will grow. Nine months Then nine months Then nine months Ripped from the earth Torn out and cast aside. Whose secrets do you, dear ones, Hide?  Melissa Pleckham is a Los Angeles-based writer, actor, and musician. Her work has been featured in or is forthcoming from Rooster Republic Press, Flame Tree Fiction, Luna Luna, Mind's Eye Publications' The Vampiricon, Head Shot Press’ Bang! An Anthology of Noir Fiction, and more. She is a member of the Horror Writers Association. She also plays bass and sings for the garage-goth duo Black Lullabies. Find her online at melissapleckham.com or on social media at @mpleckham.
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