time I tried to return to the hospital.
One morning, he bit my forearm hard, then began sobbing as though the world had ended.
I sat on the kitchen floor holding him until we were both late for everything.
In the afternoons, I became the other mother.
The bedside mother.
The one who read the same chapter from Kora’s horse book four times because she liked it and the medication made her forget.
Around the middle of the month, I tried my mother again.
Not a call.
I couldn’t survive
