between if and is
do we know the different is it invention is it practicality
she pretends time is not howling outside her window
staring as she does at this sliver of sky calling it daytime
she seems unable to reconcile between confusion and some obscure vision of truth
aren’t they the same
she has a memory of a bicycle and two friends
she spends the day with them preparing to go yet never leaving out
time stuck in the mind
all feelings turned into facts
she will walk by July
she lies deeper in the bed of her own making