Everything Hard is Tangled Published in Impspired Literary Magazine poetry Old women pace the night and want endings to be clarifying but they know that a body is a thing to be obeyed not ordered my mechanical time.
They know they cannot live in a constant state of refusal that healed doesn’t mean restored and that the past is not a morbidly rare treasure to cling to.
They write of heartbeats and resolutions and collapsing wave functions and try not to believe everything they think in the graying.
They remember all of the people to write down who might be a dim recollection by next sundown and then indecipherable by the dark of night.
They dream when awake to the calls of the ghosts of their children shifting in their sleep.
They can stand to notice lonely things even when they get up for more water at 3 am and end up writing this because they know a body is a thing to be obeyed and that everything hard is tangled.