She can repair things
with a little twist
of wire. Even sentences.
She’s “writing it all up,”
she says and none
of the imagery’s from nature.
Came over to say she’s
seen the key will be to
insert random blank
pages in the chronology, not
too early, where the mind
would retune what it was
used to, our settings revert—
but later! And increasingly!
The whole last third should be
blank! Back cover transparent!
She’s dizzy, pupils
huge, can’t think
about food. Too young
to know that we do
disappear. I will miss her
if she succeeds in this thing.
Which she might.
She’s that talented.
