We stormed a Spanish galleon, gold-laden,
Eastern silks and gems aboard, as a stranger
chanced to cross through the compass of my shot.
She stood amid the battle’s tumult, stunned,
until the bullet woke unbearable pain.
She looked at me in utter disbelief,
demanding why, then slumped onto the boards.
Her slender body leaned into sea spray,
thick with salt crystals, and refused to fall.
Time slowed, as if aware of what I\'d done.
Expensive shirts trimmed with intricate lace bled,
staining the silver buckles of her shoes.
Fear drew a single tear; slow, darkened blood
crept from the raw red edges of her mouth.
Only the steadfast stars paid silent due
to her restless passing under heaven.
Her pupils widened once, and then they froze,
bearing my image down into the void.
In one last, defiant gesture, her hand
tore the fine string of white-shining pearls.
They scattered, rolling to the deep below,
where, years ago, they grew in mollusk shells.
The circle looped; all that begins must end.
I watched her die—
so young and unprotected.
With every woman I kill,
I draw closer to Annabel.