My Neighbor's Wife by Timothy Liu

goes a-whoring, maxing out
five credit cards before she’s found
dead in the woods—suicide note
gone soggy in the rain—a husband
having to repay the debt
for years to come, unmoored as he is
from wife—the male body
left to pleasure itself—the mind
so capable of wound, of flesh
glimpsed just hours after-ocular
proof where pupils widened
to gather such detritus in—
a clerk, a student, a girl in the park
unripe as she is though Eden
to the core—my neighbor’s wife
more beautiful now than ever.