Every character dies.
Some just die more horribly than others.
The little girl unzips
like a slug
to reveal a pair of orchids.
The old lady stubs her toe
on everything she ever achieved
or knew,
pirouettes over her unmade bed,
and breaks her neck.
The bad, bad man–
not just comically bad
or rakishly bad, but actually bad bad–
goes quietly in his sleep
because no one every said anything
about justice, or meaning, or beauty.
I have assigned some beauty to the little girl
because I am not insensate,
a mollusk incapable of pearls.