Time moves in frozen floes, chunked out in tempo rubato, whole sliding pieces with jagged edges, sharply immemorable.
Great holes emptied and in-slipping at the edges and if you’re not careful, you could turn an ankle. The mind is a dangerous place–especially at night–and I lost my ability to see in the dark.
In and out of doctors’ offices, the emergency room, urgent care. My weight in and out of danger land and “just above” “just below”. Mourning and laughter runs in hand with my evenings and mornings. Pain killers don’t help–or they do.
All in all, what just happened?
