yahrzeit

i turned thirty two and now time is a pendulum it roils and escapes and i pulled the hanged man and he told me to have patience but will i ever be able to stop wanting and yearning and pining like a nascent nineteenth century woman sent to the seashore?

everyone’s honest until it’s time to have enemies; i’m not afraid of you not liking me, i’m afraid of me not liking me

i taped all my windows shut and still the polar air gets in i am frozen, perfectly suspended in ice the last piece of sand in the hourglass i keep telling myself i’ll take care of it tomorrow but that day never comes

what if i didn’t try to solve problems immediately?

would i be happier, or just not myself?

my mother threw away two thirty feet dumpsters worth of my savtas hoarding; the clack of plastic, the unwinding of a life

you’ll always remember the day something comes into your life and the way it leaves it we’re all only temporarily abled, anyway

it is dark when i descend from the office, but light in my friends homes our collective candle budget is about be blown to smithereens i love you, anyway

i tuck in time like a t shirt and it comes out scrunched i can’t unlock the vault of the future but some threads were buried in the frozen old country soil long before i got here i’ll lay my cards down beside the fire, and wait for the wind to turn