by Jaclyn Garver Fab Lentz I don’t believe in signs or fate or angels or ghosts but once, I studied a painting to see if I could part the chimney smoke curtain by the feather duster pine in the southeast corner of Florence and find a love letter from Thomas’s brushstroke to my collarbone but once, I studied a love letter to see if I could word-scramble its laced traces of pencil lead and R.’s alphabet to solve a promise that one day, he’d leave a song for me there at the b