We live now by the side of the road. We live now inside with only small windows. We live now in the now. We live now in the hand in front of our faces. We live now where there is only a green screen we will fill in later. We live now in the why and not the because. We live now hoping the outside cars screeching by in the night will finally stop and let us sleep. We live now in the now. Not the now of five sentences ago. We live now in the now we couldn’t imagine. We live now how we scream our names into the stale air of our apartments. We live now where we crack open the small windows, scream our names into the wind. We live now in remember and forget. In embrace and let go. We live now in the now.
Francine Witte’s poetry and fiction have appeared in Smokelong Quarterly, Wigleaf, Mid-American Review, Passages North, and many others. Her latest books are Dressed All Wrong for This (Blue Light Press,) The Way of the Wind (AdHoc fiction,) and (The Theory of Flesh.) Her chapbook, The Cake, The Smoke, The Moon (flash fiction) will be published by ELJ September, 2021. She lives in NYC.
Photo by Jordan Smith