Wednesday, August 10, 2016

10 August 2016

Everything exceeds its name. If at first it doesn't hurt, then wait. Count to ten, repeat. Take the chisel to your chest and swing. Feel dust enter lungs, sift into abdomen. The girl says she can't eat; it hurts too much. She carries sharp shoulder bones over a bent torso, as I remember her grandmother did. Family news of a car crash (minor) and Alzheimer's (increase of anger). We inherit things, my son says, to distinguish me from his real family. "You're my legal mother." Ten minutes later he brings his computer to share baseball highlights. Giancarlo Stanton shatters his bat; the replay shows him confused, unable to see the ball from home. The box score reads 2B.

--10 August 2016


Zwicky, #52

No comments: