She drives her Prius backwards.

That way, she can live in the wrong half of her timeline


In the cement of what has passed.


But glass, she found when she crashed into a shop,

Is neither solid nor liquid,

And her million reflections are amorphous.


Young woman,

What if the past is waiting to happen,

What would you do then, with the stars at the tip

Of your tongue, little girl,

Waiting to melt into

Melting like mirrorlike movement

When memories betray and leak and lie, lady, listen.


Will you stop taking time

Like a pill?


Find something certain and metal

When the Prius crashes and the glass floats

In fragments, still formless and in between.

If nothing else, the iron in your blood will do,

Something firm in your veins that can

Flow and break the


*Inspired by “Unique Forms of Continuity in Space” by Umberto Boccioni