A lever. We lower when we want to lift. She grieves on social media, posting photos we may or may not see. To see is to stop. Droplets of water hang from a brown railing. I use the phrase “corrugated tin” as much as I can, my friend says, because I love the sound of it so much. Rain on a tin roof turns light into sound. The man who died sits behind drums we cannot hear. We keep memories more as image than as sound; there is no ear book. Sound cannot stop us; to pluck out a note would make rain of a single drop. My three-year old daughter in the back seat yelled “traffics” on H1. I took care to repeat the word without s. It made less sense that way.
2 months ago