took her bras, burned her thongs.
he said he might’ve done it,
but in this world, possibility collides.
confounded variables, you know.
we asked her if she mentioned this
at any time after the kitten’s last plea.
but she believed her crimes were worse.
I sworn I had seen him multiple days,
licking the shimmer off sepia cream.
parking garages, in crinkling heat, roasted him numb.
we asked her about normalcy, of course
counting the men with whom our mothers hid.
and she sat on the porch, smoking and sore.
I didn’t feel like arguing
with those just as curious.
all of us, disagreeing that we were fractured babies.