my parents 
may have shared 
that master bed 
the water but 
it wasn’t long 
he started sleeping on the couch. 

the lake was young 
the stones were sharp 
and brittle. 

i wanted them 
to be 

I was 14 when my parents separated. I’m waiting for the day I’ll be done writing about 
it. Clearly, I’m not there yet. I am still in the middle, still trying, still fighting to know what it 
means to be writer, human, me.