Mary Shelley’s Corridor
Thirteen, on Lincoln Street, I read by forbidden light - a plastic flashlight breathing weakly beneath the blankets, its beam a narrow tunnel through cotton and heat into someone else’s dark.
Sting-Rays and Summer Nights - 1974
Elmira, 1974 I was ten, and we were halfway up the hill before I knew we shouldn’t be. Mama laughing in the wind, “ Just a little farther ,” she said.
3:13 a.m.
At 3:13 a.m. the night sharpens. Even the dark feels awake. The house holds its breath.
