remembering only a few fragments this week (a trampoline bed, far-right political quotes spelled out with wooden block letters on the wall of my neighbors’ place).
last night was standing in a dark room with a sister-friend.  uneaten roasted veggies on a sushi plate sitting on a black polished block. we were cutting snowflake decorations for the school winter celebration.  but we weren’t allowed scissors.  we had single hole punchers and plain white circles.  i unfolded mine and saw myself smiling and holding what looked less like a snowflake and more like target paper riddled with bullet holes.
leaving work and running down the street in the middle of the day, pulling and tearing my tank dress off.  thinking it would be an easy move but finding it was wrapped around me like a bandage. tearing and running and screaming, insisting on being naked and free of all that was not me.