words are fraying tethers.
The interior of our childrens schools feel other-wordly now, dare we place a toe over the treshold.
I thought of the end and / I met it for what it was.
Her snail’s pace is patience, thrumming through the rooms where I try to exist.
It all happened in an instant, just like the lightning rush.
inches from the nowhere drain
hound the ones with rounded edges
it took a year for it / to die, shelled and / alone in a far corner of / the unkempt living room.
in thick, tar-fused junes / we purpled shins on bike pedals
descend and dissolve