Part II (The first part can be found here.)
The scrap of paper browned and curled at the edges and a faint blue flame ringed the words “I don’t want starbursts and marble halls. I just want you.” Continue reading
A string of oyster abortions his gift.
Hers – an overflowering bouquet of lilacs,
scented crucifixes masked
the odour of briny fingers. A choker
of memories buried in purple crosses,
necklaced embryos worn until
the season changed. The lilacs
browned amid the mound of
viscera and shucked empty shells.
She kept the necklace.
He left the lilacs.