Edie, with your long lashes,
spiderwebs featuring the most elite spiders;
they never went above 14th Street. 

Edie, with your tiny bones,
it's almost surreal;
it's definitely alarming.

Edie, with your unfocused eyes,
huge in a way that redefines the word,
fuzzy with sleepiness and drink.

Edie, with your upsetting family,
suicides, abusers, depressives, alcoholics,
you were an American dynasty.

Edie, your slow roll
onto a bed in the most underground movies,
prettier after a fire than most of us on a good day.

Liz DeGregorio is a writer and editor living in New York City. Her poems have appeared in Crack the Spine's anthology "Neighbors," Beyond Words Literary Magazine, "The Heartbreak Project" anthology, Gravitas, The Tulane Review, From Whispers to Roars, Riva Collective's Chunk Lit and In Parentheses. Three of her poems were included in Indie Blu(e) Publishing's anthology "SMITTEN," which was a National Indie Excellence Awards finalist. Her flash fiction has appeared in *82 Review, Ruminate Magazine and Two Sisters, and she's had fiction published in BUST Magazine.