So Jilly held up the long printout
like a roll of wallpaper, trying to show us
the plunge and lurch of the line on her graph.
'Something,' she announced, her eyes bulging,
We dismissed it, of course, even laughed a little
as they bundled her into the ambulance,
writhing and kicking.
It was only later, you know,
during the slow, caffeine drip nights of revision,
that we'd glance up at our lightbulbs,
catch them trilling,
like a moth wing.