There are times when only stillness will do. Something has gone wrong, but it’s not clear how or why. Or maybe I’d just rather not remember. We are missing each other. My arm misses your shoulder like they are part of the same thing, the phantoming is intolerable when the real is reminded. The actual smell of you. The way it fills the house. The heart that I can feel skipping because we are so close. These days, in the aftermath, I rely on stillness. There’s so much in it. The necessary movements are made carefully. Each step, walking the dog, considered. Everything is vast here but the individuals. The individuals stay tiny in their skins and furs and barks. The snow is dripping from the roof. It’s stopped being snow. Elemental things move on so easily, but the water is still water and this is still my home.
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