final resting pose

After she’d read all there was to read; scrolled through public safety alerts and tweets and emails and texts from friends and family concerned for her safety; seen all the videos to be seen—“I was putting on my bowling shoes when it started,” said a man who’d been present during the gunfire,” I’ve been barefoot for five hours”—after she’d struggled through the “I surround myself with…”choose-your-own-ending yoga practice, with Maine as her ending, she lay in corpse pose, the misty breath of October seeping through the old cedar clapboards, and then and only then did she cry.

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