Page 95 of As You Wake, Break the Shell

mutation ruins the soy crop this

year, then what will we do, as if

humanity isn’t an endless tale

of ruined crops and muddling

along anyway. It isn’t prudence.

It’s fear. They fear that the

society they doggedly emulate

isn’t the whole story, and that if

you let life run wild, the fantasy

holding these rafts afloat will

snap. But my plants—my plants

remember droughts and trees.

They remember winter. I’d love to

know what winter is. I never will.

But I can care for a plant that

feels the absence of winter, and

when I do, I wonder what unmet

rhythms my body likewise wants.

Tell me about your parents.

Air supply malfunction in our

apartment block when Bastard

went off, when we were little.

You remember that eruption?

Hard to forget.

I was four. I was playing

down in the laundry room.

The air stayed okay in

there. I had a different

sister then.

I am so sorry. Do you remember