The girl shot twice in the face
died with a locket round her neck
of Edwardian gold engraved
with an immigrant name not hers
In the gullet of a wild dead bird
is a piece of hard candy
red as a brake light in the swerve
that feathered flat the track
down to the water’s curve
In the crease of the wallet
in the pocket of the pants
on the body in the car at the bottom
of the lake in a bubbling gush of air
is an envelope holding
a single curl of hair
