The Memory of Animals

by Claire Fuller

have a glimpse of how fragile their little grouping is. Fraying threads tied together by calamity and shared need, each tugging on an end hoping to make the knot firmer but risking undoing the messy tangle.

I am sorry, though, for all our pain and loss, and sometimes I am sorry for the moments of hope we allow ourselves. Wouldn’t it be easier to have a body – bodies – and to know for certain?