An excerpt from

Weightless Fireworks

Scott Pack

end of the affair
her packed bags by the front door

80 m.p.h.
butterflies hit the windscreen
with weightless fireworks

she’s been eating crisps
I can taste them on her lips
ready salted love

pausing in the snow
a robin, fresh from murder,
looks me in the eye

the six grades of sting:
nettle, pinprick, wasp, hornet,
papercut, and love