he promised he'd take her out on the town at a quarter past three
and by a quarter of three she was dead in the living room
with her father's linens draped around her ankles
and below her skin, a purple fountain flowing

he promised her father he'd mend the holes in the linen
which had stained dark after her ascension
after her stomach acid bore craters into the floor polish
after her tongue fell from her lips to kiss the lace

and then men with suitcases took her body away at a quarter past three
they came without breaking or collapsing in the living room
they shrouded her in clinical-white sheets
and walked out the door bearing stoic expressions

leaving nothing but the world behind them