a two-sided notebook paper rant dedicated just to me.
Blog
for jack
he loves deeply is feral-angry cries rivers
healing.
there is no rhythm to the remembering, / no time or space or elaborate calling
the truth of it
words are fraying tethers.
the shift: the kids are back in school.
The interior of our childrens schools feel other-wordly now, dare we place a toe over the treshold.
inanimate
I thought of the end and / I met it for what it was.
the other mother
Her snail’s pace is patience, thrumming through the rooms where I try to exist.
For Him.
It all happened in an instant, just like the lightning rush.
preservation
inches from the nowhere drain
the rockhounder
hound the ones with rounded edges
Magic Mama 