eulogy for a woman i met long ago whom i suspect is now dead, part II

there is a gap, nigh an inch
which stands too for a preoccupation.
manicured cuticles on cigarette hands.
ladyfingers, not displayed on a platter,
but to make useful an anachronism's splendid palms.

a gem so bright remains on the third pastry,
one half of the parliament facade,
that one could guess it charged the corpuscles of its late owner
and kept their swims efficient.

how now did it stop?
twenty years and not a heartbeat did it relax.
was an escape necessary?
or some lovely vacation?
or did its master pry itself from its relation
and reckon itself done.

all of these questions are now unnecessary.
negated by a swift wrist.
karen swoons from the old ship-to-shore.
"it's too late, baby now. it's too late."

my name is Gabulous Losoncy, and i am in my sophomore year.