she removes a bruise-colored diaper.  autopilot.  on foot, she passes a bike her bike has beaten.  the spatial awareness of a previous male has her wanting to buy batteries for toys your son has buried.  below, in city, in a silent film’s ambulance, her son expires.  she collapses on the wrong side of satan’s ear.  on hand, her father’s body in a hammock is god’s arm in a sling.  her mother’s last memory is second to none.  is of a baby being the size of a bullet.