Sunday, June 21, 2009
holed up in the back bedroom, windows flung open, tongue salt-swollen. i sweat through my jeans, sweat my way into a deep deep sleep. ten hours later, wake: cat pawing my face, phone ringing off the hook. hello? my sister with news of her engagement. you forgot to say congratulations. the phone rings and rings. i stagger down the hall to stand, half-naked, before the box fan, which sputters to a stop five minutes after i click on. out the window: a hunter’s moon. without harvest. even the insects exhausted. lawn still, a silence so great all hopelessness is shamed.