JonBenet
by Margaret C. Rigsby

Golden-haired angelic-child
silky-soft satiny skin.  
Azure eyes now see no more
the face of nightmares 
like imagined monsters 
lying  in watchful wait
beneath the bed of JonBenet.

Christmas presents still lie askew
in room where little girls play;  princesses,
dance, sing and dream of grown-up days.
But the little girl with the renowned smile
without her satin and taffeta,
waited anxiously to ride the bike
left by Santa .

Tiaras, gold and silver trophies,
pageant ribbons, rows of winning photos
she now bequeaths unwittingly; 
as the sordid story unfolds.

Velvety white skin now cold and bruised,
beautiful baby-blues blink no more,
only ice-cold stare
from basement floor.

Six-year old body
wrists restrained with rope,
fractured skull
still she breathed...
as cord tightened around her throat
and duct tape stopped her screams.

Screams of fear, screams at monsters
who crept from underneath her bed;
penetrating, soiling her chastity, 
the next to the last thing  they stole
as her blue eyes set
with last  labored breath,
here lies JonBenet.

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