luv, u had to hate to forget me like that
wot, wiv the fairy lights all twinklin’
dipshit romeo in my eyes, the same way
u lacquered the kennedys, gorgeous
doomed, gorgeous, a sword swallower
slittin’ her throat and dyin’ in a mess
of crimson and crystals.
fuckin’ true crime, the end of us:
plastic bag over my head, the sweet kiss
of cherry syrup and hot dog air—
my chest ripped open for the brigh’on gulls, the after
of my body taxidermied at the bri’ish museum—
pure silent spectacle. you were always guinevere
and jfk, and i arthur of the cul-de-sac—
no merlin, no cassini, no sword, no stone.
never even fucking been to england.