the end of her that is more permanent than this weeping trail of excrement we are left
with seemingly never to end keep drawing out like a clothes line across buildings or phone lines from communications transformation or if not that this then something like radio waves carrying power to these fingertips if this is more your metaphor
she rises and tells stories that she must that she did that they have to
lots of need in her bones a lifetime cradled into stories about efficiency and action and efficacy now
falsely marrowed down to minutes between sleep
what’s needed sometimes is less of this attention and even I propose care
though of course not neglect not that but what if less caring so much that is this self inflicted responsible action
inadvisably holding onto something that needs to let loose
a noose
what if a whole lot more of making space
letting go
first in frustration
then in consideration compassion forgiveness even love would enter
room then there
for another