Notes on a Silencing

by Lacy Crawford

I followed book to article to book like a set of torches on a tunneled hall.

“I wish I had a dog in my room,” I said suddenly. “At night.” I heard the needles clicking again. “I wish you did too.”

Do soldiers still in foxholes write to the ones who got to go home?

how her loving him kept all of this together.

He never really disagreed with anything, just set his idea up there next to yours, as if there was plenty of room on the shelf.