my role at family functions is to look the best and to drink the wine
july: i wrap gauze around my wrists in solidarity. i call over and over and again, give up and come home. i find you damp with neglect, your forehead flat with worry. knelt, smoothing the sheets and counting the tics, the hiss of commitment vibrating in the air. a twitch, a switch, what it is to be adored. i won’t take no. hush, hush. i comb your hair out and find several small bones.