“The woman in the picture is not just different from what I remember of her, or want to remember: she is a ghost, like the ghosts I would see on strips of negatives as a girl. In daylight I would hold them up to my eye, trying to guess who they were, and when I grew bored of this, I would fashion these haunted ribbons into bracelets round my wrist.”
Before he is dead, Grandad misses his funeral. The ceremony is supposed to be Thursday, has been Thursday for weeks. But Grandad doesn’t die on time. He doesn’t do anything on time, hasn’t done anything right for a while now, so he misses the funeral and drinks red Gatorade with what’s supposed to be his final meal.
The magic of apricot may well keep us alive
a little while longer than unnecessary
I was admitted into a hospital only for
the death of a tooth. There are negatives
of graveyards, albums of black rivers.
When you finally realize what it is you’ve been doing this whole time, you learn it’s called choking the chicken.