Without any indication or forewarning

—my right leg has begun causing issues, a deep pain running behind the knee cap, along the top of the calf. When I sit, no pain is apparent, yet when I stand the leg limps beside me, a tired old dog.
More rejections arrived in the email. Little annoyances. Biting form letters. May rework a word or two later. Sometime when my judgment is not clouded with petty frustration.
A cob web shifts in the upper corner of the room, just above my head.
92/ Pan works in his garden, shirtless, feeling early spring on the curve of his arched back as he bends over, pulling weeds, rouge mint, dead branches. Afterwards he stands in full sun, eating a deep purple bruise of a plum, the juice staining his fingers, running down his chin.


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