Molly Fisk: Violence Fractal

First it’s locations you’ve never heard of, then far-away places
you haven’t been. Then countries you’ve traveled to, but not
that city, and not in a long time. Slowly, a tulip unfurling red petals,
it’s Paris, Rio, Toronto. And Florida, where your grandmother lived
and you flew for a visit, age 12. Frogs on the window screen croaking
all night. Las Vegas is just one state over. So far no one you know,
but now it’s people your friends can name: a daughter’s schoolmate’s
psychologist mother. This week a bike path, a Walmart in Denver
where Ellen still lives and your favorite niece, but no one we know
shops at Walmart, do they? Soon, though. It’s only a question of numbers
and luck. It will be someone you liked but lost touch with, a boyfriend,
a roommate. Then someone you love. And then you.