She insists the narrative won't become clearer. She won't put on a sweater. She won't remove the pearl necklace. She refuses avocado for the third straight day. She knows time is never straight, bends away from light. Bends into the dark. She mourns that red coat with a black velvet collar. She pines for a persimmon. She becomes impatience for asparagus. She knows she will never own another red coat with a black velvet collar. Now she knows why every dark moon will speak her name as if the title of a poem.
