It’s noon on a monday. I haven’t showered or eaten breakfast; the apple is still in my fridge, only now there’s also a fish in my freezer, too. His name was Pi, and he’s been with me for a long time, as fish go. Years. His empty tank is still bubbling away with the filter on because I’m afraid if I turn it off the silence will be deafening. And my great aunt whom I’ve not seen in several years is dying in a nursing home upstate, and I didn’t make time to see her over Thanksgiving.
Blustering wind outside, and bright sun.
Yesterday’s snow has gone already.
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 