(4:56 p.m.) I make a windmill of my shoulder, harnessing all my energy to lessen the pain later on. Question if I properly maintained six-feet of distance while waiting in

I The world spins around the axis of my grief. I stand still, paralysed. II Indivisible prime number, my grief is mine alone to carry. III The end was peaceful

when I wake up I try to remember / what age I should be / on a Saturday filled with shades of champagne / not the age of my bones

I’m standing in the last row before my fourth grade class photo. Underneath a banner that reads “Swimming to Success”, I shrink low. The photographer laughs before snapping our photo,

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