I am old with living.
So much older than almost thirteen.
And things aren’t right.
Not at all.
Is Lizzie nuts
like Momma says?
(It runs in the family,
you know?
No, Momma, I
didn’t know.)
Is Momma?
Is it me who is crazy,
twisted tight with all of this?
So tight
I am not sure I can
breathe.
There’s been
a spiral in time,
things changing so
fast
anymore.
Oh, Liz.
Stop that thinking so you can
come back.