Everything Contains Everything

She wants to kill her dog.

He took a saw to the fingers

of the man with sick hands.

They want to eat the spleen

of their upstate lover. 

The mother’s hourglass figure

is hemorrhaging sand.

The cancer is back,

and on her chest even her toddler

feels her time running out.

The snow lays on the tree branch

like Miss Universe in her crystal gown,

watching a 131-vehicle pileup in I-41,

one dead inside the metal caterpillar. 

There’s a gift under the tree

of the philosopher who asked,

Why does evil exist?

The package contains nesting dolls,

every other one is labeled

good and bad.

Inside the smallest doll,

labeled, good, is a note that says,

You choose the biggest doll.