Little Locket

He’s got a little locket picture
Of the maids' commission
With bees blowing through the bushes
He makes the first incision
And these dolls race through the garden
A chef on boneless roses
Opens the bandages
This empty house discloses
What the guest’s dreams are hiding
As he rests above the arbor
With little flowers crying
For all their heads he’s harbored
And the then midnight market stalls
Fill with up chloroform
The face within his locket mouths
«Take off your uniform.»
They kiss him before parting
Then melt into his pockets
He’s trampling through the garden
And he’s got a little locket