on “In the Craters on the Moon”
I was lying on the floor. I will lie on the floor. I laid on the floor. I will have lain on the floor.
(I’m on the floor, is what I’m trying to tell you.)
The floor is cool and dry and it sticks to my cheek when I lie here too long. My spit is pooling underneath me and I don’t know how long it’s been since you left. But you’re gone. You were going and now you’re gone. It could have been hours or days or weeks; I don’t have a clock. I don’t have a calendar. Read More »