Point

Grazing my knee and livestock, because a sigh travels further than a shout. It has been rehearsed to the point of that’s the way I am, or that’s the way it is, measured by the interval not the distance. And in the same field the leaves kept the children safe. The field of view, the field of routine, the grain of reprieve. As he is said to have said, the only thing we are ever dealing with is a thought. Even the wildflowers are sensible. All of it composed of relationships, between you and the leaves, between you and. At this point in the story, I forgive you for not being the way I wanted you to be.

Asymptote

The child is sent to rake leaves in the front yard. She scrapes together “it will take too long” and “I’m not that kind of person.” The ratio did not seem rational. Speaking all the time, though there are not many words to her speaking. But there is enough material for a feature film. Dear June. Will it be again and a gain, because it appears more true. If I have character or if I am a character. To an asymptote. Following on because it is familiar. But to trip twice on the same rake. Perhaps she was the sort of person who never expressed her opinions or allowed others to finish her sentences or.

Zarah Butcher-McGunnigle

Zarah Butcher-McGunnigle lives in Auckland. Her first book, Autobiography of a Marguerite, was published earlier this year by Hue & Cry Press.