day 23

she sits for two hours watching that television show that ended an hour ago.
sometimes she sighs as though moved by the actors or perhaps the stars all
lit up. we’ve taken the toaster away. the stove burners. the microwave. she
once tried to boil an egg in there. splattered like small animals under cars.
we took her rocking chair. or Larry did. made it so she can’t rock or lift
the feet up. she kept lifting and rocking until she’d knocked chips off
the wall behind her. it’s mostly the accident. can’t blame a girl for the
parts of herself that are missing. though when she throws her food or screams
so loud I have to put my hands over my ears i wish i could. i wish i could
lay blame for all the trouble. the late nights. the divorce and what came
after. it’s a mean wish, to be sure. she won’t mind. she never does.

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