A slight fear of the tank behind the matzoh factory where the memories are/how to avoid the disaster that befell my predecessor?

Aunt Margaret climbs in/has been here before/emerges radicalized, different/demands to be buried/in the same mass grave where her parents were murdered/“or similar”/the whole story could be contained here, or in a year, or in the bloodbath of menopause/ the move away from away from gendered existence, from domestic to feral/toward something more expansive, cosmic.

To Enby, a writer “holding story” means to write nothing down. There’s no product of experience only the trace of pure narrative/how it disperses into something shared, even unwillingly/like the space between one star & another/the points of a constellation strangers/their accumulated radiance cold/like someone waiting for a bus while shining.