Once upon a time. Twice, on her parents’ bed.
She freaked out when she found the human stain
Dried rough in the rough shape of the male brain.
Cautious ever after, after that she said
She liked it when I shot her in the head.
She blew my brains out. Bang bang, I was dead,
Unarousable there in the first floor master.
Sometimes, on long drives, she’d gun me. Faster, faster
I tongued the olive pressed between her thighs.
Floaters, she swore, as bright as rescue flares
Would dive across the dark behind her eyes.
I pearl dove and never once came up for air
There in her aunt’s houseboat on Lake Champlain.
The wetter she got the harder I smelled the rain.
from What He Did In Solitary (Knopf), Amit's outstanding new book, the pub date of which is today.