Unsaid

"True things are too big or too small or in any case the wrong size to fit the template of language."

Lighthouse Keeping, Jeanette Winterson

So,
how do you tell
your child
her lover
is dead?

she took the words from my eyes hands and face breathed them to life with the wail of her breath we slashed our breasts chewed into the earth clumped out our hair salt streamed from our eyes dragged branches behind erased his footstep

That’s how
I told her
her lover was
dead.