Dec 3, 2021
3 min read
Clock of Death
From a verse novel in progress
Separation
Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
― W.S. Merwin
At 8 in the morning,
at exactly 8 in the morning,
they wheel her through swing doors,
banging like a poltergeist.
The irritated doctor in a…
