Six ways to Sunday: idiom, meaning in every way possible.

Wendy says, Carlos put up a fight. He was very brave. But what could he do. There were five of them, see. 

Good Cop says, five?

Wendy says, yes. Five black guys. Men, not boys.

Bad Cop snorts. Shakes his head.

Wendy says, may I finish, please?

Bad Cop smirks. Let’s hear it, he says.

Wendy says, they rushed through the door. Big black men with guns and knives. We want money, they said, and Carlos told them, we don’t have any money.

Good Cop says, okay and then what.

Wendy says, well then they went crazy. Maybe drunk, or on drugs. They killed poor Carlos. Shot him and stabbed him.

Bad Cop says, five big black guys burst through the door, murdered your boyfriend six ways to Sunday and left you there standing. That’s what you’re saying?

Wendy says, I think it was five. Might have been three.

all of these are only words
shadows cast through the mouths and hands
of those who saw god, of the light beyond light
which is in everything, moving unknown, unknowable

someone on the other side of the road reaches into their pocket
a dog growls and snaps, a dying bee stings wildly
the air itself scours the land, the waters wash away our houses
all of

I was diagnosed with ADHD at the end of last year, yet another late in life AFAB diagnosis. I just got prescribed some medicine for it last Wednesday and I feel, for the first time, like a functioning person. In fact, I can even stay awake all day without a thousand naps now!

I am so thankful I was able to get a screening quickly and that the diagnosis came almost as quickly. It was a long road to getting medicine, not because of the