In the beginning, there’s something to hold on to. Fire in the Old Testament or other myths. Or just the facts about death: We
It gets late so early now dinner at five not seven no wine allowed (bottles stashed behind winter boots) no appetite, food picked at,
Leaves flicker, black on the kitchen wall bright with sun. I sit at the table, morning coffee still warm, absorb images, red and tan
1. The years become one wait two weeks at a time. The drugs balloon me into what I hope to be but won’t. Things