When it happened to me, I didn’t get out, at least not at first. Predictably, the reality of domestic violence is far more complicated. The thought, “I should leave him” occurred to me at least a hundred times before I ever attempted it, and I even tried to end the relationship twice before I was able to sever it for good. It takes an average of seven attempts for a victim of intimate partner violence to get out of the relationship. It isn’t easy. When it comes down to it, I think we need to reframe the question.

As I learned how to dribble the ball and ran drills, I quickly picked up the nick-name “sugar foot” from coach Dan, when it became obvious in shooting drills that, no matter how much force I intended to put behind the kick, the ball would barely roll into the goal—if it did at all. These drills were without a goalie.

I’m thinking of spaces—distanced and farther. I’m thinking of NASA’s rover, Perseverance. In the midst of the pandemic, it launched in July 2020 and landed in February 2021. It, too, was in limbo or perhaps on a predisposed trajectory over seven months. So much can happen in so short a time. From Minnesota to Mars, I’ve felt like I’m rooted beneath an umbrella in Bradbury’s science-fiction story, “There Will Come Soft Rains,” because I’m teaching through a screen in a universe indifferent to life. I believe even summer and winter may not have remembered passing through.

As I waited for my mother to arrive to pick me up, I was lost in a repetitive thought cycle of the steps required to land an Ollie. Bend the knees. Pop the tail with back foot. Turn front foot to the side and drag it up to the nose. Level out. Bend. Pop. Turn. Drag. Again. And again. I was obsessed. I was reborn.

Tirzah’s Devotion has a strange ability (much like Frank Ocean’s whole discography) to tackle all of the messiness that comes with romance in a groovy but insightful and emotional way.