Heroic Sentences

131 KIMBERLY GREY HEROIC SENTENCES Little crumbs and tree and bone and all that’s left of time inside our bodies and I am insatiable when it comes to saving you, my ally, my last wreckage of. It’s business, this vanishing, to come and go like little mice. We don’t survive. Because of each other. We survive. Marriage is a wilderness we must all come out of. Pull me from the poplar. Let’s learn to un-love like a million others. There are centuries surrounding us on both sides: years of doom and dagger, years of lict and licked. And what we love about time is what we love about failure: we can’t stop it. It comes towards us with both hands. It glows for us in the night. A wife tethered to a husband tethered to a wife. We last, because we have lasted. Because leaving is the hardest way to travel. It’s brave to lose the part of you that can’t be lost. To whittle a marriage down to its bones and finally say I want you to be gone in the morning. Outside there’s a kingdom full entirely of newness. Inside we are two old gods. There is no space we can keep together. In the rung, tough cold we’ll kiss heaven goodbye. And the bed will fight us from across the room, where still we’ll come, and breathe as we go: nth and nth and nth. ...