Some Moments from Chapter One
...rinse, repeat...
—Black Thought
The blank page(/screen).
Quite formidable.
I have decided
that I have a
tale to tell.
[written by
a me in another
era; unaware of
any such tales
at present]
The liar
proceeds.
A mix of
immediate
family, col-
lege buds,
ex-boyfriends
and justice
for all.
The sound
the face makes
when smacked
against the fancy
rock tiles in the
master bath (next
to the bedroom
where we some-
times sleep), fol-
lowed by the si-
lence as the clock
(“Too alarming,”
the coroner would
conclude.) shatters
into dozens of pieces,
some of them as tiny
as one of the ecstatic
hairs that now stand
erect between knuckle
and crook of finger. A
resounding display of
the glowering silence
of ephemera.
What follows, or so the
report reads, is this:
“Silence, and
a snail’s-pace
transition — from
dream-state to cogni-
zance — yet with the
body still frozen
in sleep,” (and, I
soon think, to
gnaw at the
severity,
perhaps...
cadaveresque).
Weeks pass....
Years even...
doesn’t work
anymore.
