Appetizers

She was watching the eyebrow on the night rise and ebb. While pieces of tomorrow winked on the horizon like so many distant sailboats on a voyage much longer than the wind. The perfect certainty of hopelessness rigid as the wood of a crucifix.

The hours. Each of them cascading in an endless sneeze of unravelling bowels. The more you pull away the more that your insides fall out.

She was taking her life in doses. In orange cylinders with typewritten instructions on how much and how often to she was to be saved.

The hours. Each of them. Stabbing into the next. A series of so many tiny toothpicks to animate the dead.