Sean West

Closer Inspection

He’s made a dishonest
living out of hawking lemons

I come across one of his harder
sells in my palms, study gaps

between doors to indicate past
collisions. Inspect windows

with hammer and cloth, upend
flooring. This clunker was driven

by a serial killer. A string of murder
sprees were misspelt in back seats

I see blood stains bleached
half-clean by fisherman’s hands

Determine signs of a struggle
Who bellied the boning knife?

I dig a blue-jellied finger
into interior dash, wipe asking

price off windshield, discover
my face reflected in the rear view

or was that someone else? I check
the boot for a body—find nothing.

Sean West holds a BFA in Creative and Professional Writing. In 2019, he was shortlisted for the Thomas Shapcott Poetry Prize. His work has appeared in StylusLit, Stilts Journal, and Baby Teeth Journal, among others. He lives and works in Brisbane, Australia. Find more of him at

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