Colette Cosner † Jesus Year

Colette Cosner

Jesus Year

When you’re eight and your mother’s boyfriend buys you a calendar that’s just past and you don’t stop crying in the stationary aisle of Barnes & Noble until you have a daughter of your own. Time just one of those things we say. Like that letter I wrote you, bottled up now and floating in the belly of our last great white — had I known there was going to be all this talk of mercy, I would have bucked the fuck up a long time ago.