reached out on a monday,
met shelby at the beach
house. something good and gorgeous
grease-lined and pulling at guitar strings
on the porch. snap
conch i gathered
shatters the wall. snap
she tells me this song will sample
a backfiring engine. snap
neck twists until it breaks and i,
too, welcome it.
next monday shelby
at the beach house.
i hadn’t moved dead
on the blue-sanded porch. she
sat next to me and slapped the guitar,
something good and gorgeous,
something like she missed me.