For a word that means “gap”, the term lacuna sure has no shortage of meanings. You can find lacunae in scientific research, or gaps in the facts. There’s lacunae in old manuscripts, unfinished or damaged paintings, and esoteric texts. You find lacunae in law—gaps in what protects and punishes in equal measure. You can even find lakes called Lacuna on one of Saturn’s moons, which likely stems from the Latin word “lacus”—a water-filled gap in otherwise solid matter. Conversely, just as lots of gaps exist in this world (and our understanding of it), the lack that defines the lacuna can be complex. Consider a recess in a relationship—a break or a breakup. Pop songs often portray these kinds of schisms as instantaneous; a black magic blast from a traitor who vanishes into the night. And the wounded lover, unable to process the loss, fills that reservoir at once with either self-pitying tears or fist-shaking rage. Such a void is rarely so simple, though. So you’d be right to guess—if you haven’t already—that GRAHAM SMITH's second KLEENEX GIRL WONDER novella in 2018 is not just another breakup album. Of course, anyone who’s spent 25 years stuffing the interstices between hooks and riffs with colloquial wit likely knows far more about lacunae than most. But on White Lacuna, Smith shows us that the gap between two people doesn’t crack open overnight—and the space in between may not be as dark as you think. A white lacuna? That’s right. White, like the ice that settles into nooks and pushes two halves apart. White, like the colorless light that pours out of the opening. White, like the healing hoodoo of benevolent witches and wizards. White like a white lie, an omission to avoid hurt, or at least confrontation. White-out brushed over a typo—a palimpsest. Through 22 pages of lyrics, KGW steers us through the natural fissures that creep into the joints, as both parties in the union realize that the split was long overdue.