A Song Called Ranelagh by Joshua Marie Wilkinson

So says the dead woman in her calm ways:
What won’t oppose you? What won’t
actually challenge you? What won’t call your
despicable behavior what it really is?
Whom for for you?
I was in the wet green of Ranelagh
breathing beer—
Breathing this briny confected air—
& the islands?
The nearby islands scuttled in a bit closer.