I thought maybe it had been a full moon but it wasn’t, and anyway, I don’t know shit about what that means. You used to talk a lot about the phases of the moon, the stars’ place, Mercury and its retrograde, but I never really understood anything about what they meant. Maybe I didn’t listen well enough when you talked about things you were passionate about, a considerable regret.

Soup Plate. White and pure. Thrown like a frisbee at back of husband’s head, husband who had just become a father. A flying saucer arced the air, approaching its target with an edge, thin and obtuse. Plate shattered at contact with the base of his skull, by the hardness of the husband-father’s head. Later, sweeping the shards, post-partum belt pressing into my belly, husband left, stayed mad for days, maybe years. “You could have brain-damaged me!” he said.