In literary theory, the chronotope is how a moment in time and space collide through language.


I would have readied the clothes
on your body for washing

I would have soaked their fibers in hair conditioner,
stretched them to temper the anxiety of growth

the trunk of your belly smiles
below the hem of your shirt, a miracle

the puckering of elastics worn well
is wildflower joyous. I would love

more of you if you create it.

Two Women Heading to Hell on a Sunday