The heartwarming, but not heartfelt, epitaph for an absent father. In a fog of dissociation and disbelief, surrounded by raw and authentic grief, the poet has created a piece guaranteed to ring vitally true for everyone except herself.
It's November again, November again, and everything is death and fiction. - excerpt The dreamlike inner monologue of a young woman known only as Jinglekitty. Disenfranchised, hypervigilant, and self-aware, she reveals a private November that she and the love of her life (described as "her boy") cannot escape...