Going away

She is disappearing, your Mom, said the Dad to his son. And all of your anger with her- arisen out of fear, sadness, and helplessness, is not wrong, though it hurts. She is consumed with another realm, and you speak only to a placeholder who grows more listless with time.


Night splints hold teeth in position, I believe. There is a baseless fear of dismemberment, of awakening without the sum of one’s parts, like the cave of a missing tooth. I lie in bed running, and too fast. Of what do predators dream?

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