dreamed last night i cut my hair. sleeping in the room kyoko passed away in, and which my mother has repurposed as her own: a de-facto separation from her husband, who she's relinquished the master bedroom to, after years of having him sleep in the living room. i dream every night and light incense in front of the shrine, where photos are quickly accumulating: tsune and the only two photos of my great grandfather: he in his policeman's uniform, and he in his kimono, much older. my grandfather and his son, kyoko and the midwife who delivered me. i am the only person living who appears in the photos, the picture my mother uses of pam one of her in her office chair, myself (as an infant) cradled in the bent crook of her arm. my mother's oldest daughter, in the center. i've woken up many mornings here with a thorn of panic in my chest, clearly feeling the terror of time. the same panic i felt as a kid in school, when i'd scare myself half to death in bed at night, trying to imagine what it'd be like to be parted from my body.