i never got to say goodbye to
my mother. though i felt her depart,
cinderblock on my chest at my then-
boyfriend’s house, cooking din. the
air felt different, alien in that moment
as if i had suddenly lost cabin pressure.

never gave much thought to the
homing beacon until that moment, when
i was pulled home. 911, right now, my
mind repeated like the emergency
broadcast system. the crunchy,
crackly sound
that activates
your fight or flight within
a second, autopilot fully engaged.

hugging my dad in the driveway because
the weight was too heavy for Inside.
how do we get to tomorrow?


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