In our marriage you are an empire and I
narrate the territories you invade...

The strangest things I've told you:
I ride the bus to class so I never...

I have written about loss like
my body is tomb for cupid arrows...

I can't find you anymore
and there's a landslide in there...

Your rosary rests on my chest
like it's praying for me, like it's...

When death took you, you refused
to go quietly. Sirens echoed in the pit...

Your mother has been worried
about the exit wounds on your shoulders...

The next train you depart on
will hold the scent of cane fields and...

The billabong booms with the kind of
blokes and bush rangers that rest bundy...

I'm not sure if you know this but
seagulls have died here. Their corpses rest...

The street lights don't hold us
anymore; there are only clouds and curtains...

When you write
I feel my muscles detach from my spine...