Some days are unspeakable. Fatigue and pain dislodge me. Even my voice becomes unhinged, that last door. The earth turns, rivers flood, neighbours shout their children down, a girl glides by, humming a vague tune, and I lie, useless and unconcerned, like a hiss fallen from a hater’s mouth. Later, as I recall, I find words wanting, their essence (and a foot of mine) tethered in the hinterland.