Her glasses swell with

Gabriel’s leftover oil

as if a gang of unpublished islanders

had spent the night flossing

their children with her frame.

 

She gave up clairvoyance

for Forgive-Me-For-Putting-It-That-Way

when the calculus of closure

drank her makeup

from the walls of

a gold coast hotel.

 

He dribbles

the porch light

onto memories

of her limbs.

 

The police slip

a two-inch-thick

slice from his torso

and lick it off of

pocket knives.

 

He knew

something just

like this

would happen

but he never

thought they’d

put it

into words.