Linda Hillman Chayes

and breath are braking, is there any sleep to be had? With time in play, did we speak the day before or the day after? When will I love air?

Isn’t it enough that childhood ghosts steal my voice? When company arrives uninvited, what words can be spoken? When a word escapes me, why do all its sidekicks knock around my brain, bickering? Will longing, boxed, combust? Can you reach into Zoom and grab your child from an adjacent square?