With her eyes closed at night Francis Rose knew she’d have to reknit her imploded insides and start stitching together a way to enter her future. From now on things would happen in a world that didn’t hold her sister. On the inside of her eyelids everything burned and imploded again into a well that didn’t have a bottom. On the outside of her eyelids was all the space in all the world, uselessly open.


Francis Rose's grief
her sweater drawer