when tabitha died the whole street lit up like a neon wilderness

the birds fluttered crazy in the ghost trees and around the roofs

the small, simple man from the corner house opened his mouth

and from it poured radiance the likes of which we had never seen before

a creature moved in to tabitha’s place, something mossy and revolting

we called it the lawn because it had patches of grass and clover on its chest and elbows

but really it could have been called anything you wanted

after a while the place smelt like wet cardboard

and the kind of fear a man gets at the dead of night

the lawn started eating the children, then the adults, the houses and the trees

pretty soon half the street was empty, and the lawn just grew bigger

now we sit, huddled in number 63, scared shitless and crying for the sweet lord

sometimes we miss tabitha, because what we got was far worse

but really, she was a bitch and everyone knew it