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