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Assassins: by Edin Suljic
reflection: spare crop / fleet mind
Bonnie McClellan-Broussard 
This one harkens to the paranoia of desire which I find in Roberto Bolaño’s fiction. All the lovers past are assassins, spies, secret agents in possession of the facts that could kill you. Or make you whole. Or make you pay. Or simply make you love.
Stunning work.
great last verse
LENDING A SHOT
The blow is always there
On top of the next wave
Waiting for a surfing foot
Hope is a slavery anchor
Ball and chain of the rich
Desert of a thousand wonders
Assassins need only a second
To do the watusi dance
So far away from the blind tongue
Just close to the shore of innocence