rebecca zg

Here

The timeslips started a while ago was it always, the tether bites my hand it’s the freckles on my thigh I focus on, triangle of three brown spots it’s me it’s me here I am, though it’s the tether that holds me, less and less it seems. Old concrete softens and flexes but I keep it in shape, keep it solid. Kaisa’s foraging, feel her waver, a glimpse of green, berries, groping though now they’re just shoots, now they’re bitter, spat out, ripe ripe berries – a send out, a faith, her hand touches one solidifies against her skin, got it, stains of crimson fingerprints of juice smeared mouths, we’ll eat for now at least.