territories of folding

This cannot be another year about ___________ (unknowing). I was my mother’s daughter and then a series of days came. They were not unlike a rock garden on the dinner table. I brushed the ground and made a lifejacket of fence posts. We committed suicide and she called me her sum.


































Pushed in a closet and bleeding.






If this is 1989:

your sister did that to your nose.




















sometimes I believe I am a hallway. (I take back the whole part about transitioning.) and this is what I keep trying to tell you about desperation. (if I could I would suffer more in that liminal.) my wish which is a faulty maintaining. the tender of a slightly turned knee. (I am the least brave person that I know.)






































It’s spelled s-h-e but the s is silent.

Isn’t that the way it is anyway. No two plurals in the world.























And what of CPR in the first place.


Play dead, little sister, be a good girl.
I’ll be the boy and I’ll save you.


This is air in your lungs and you are now
breathing. It is important to me that you
remember the difference. This is
resuscitation. Not blood or a kiss.