a breeze, hardly more. the curtains hung. the window, the window, and a breeze slipping in. she hardly noticed. the curtains on either side. she hardly noticed and yet she turned her head. a breeze, and the scent of roses filling the room. the curtains ruffling, as if some ghost stirred beneath them. her suspicions answered by a slip of the cat's paw. she had been drooling onto her pillow. awoken by roses, her pillow damp. she stood and walked towards the window, startling the cat.
SEVERE WHITE SUN
a green fringe erupting. the woods at once: draped in shadow and moss. the sunlight scalding, poured through a sieve. i melt against the banister. i abandoned my substance, my shape, on the cool bedsheets. my new position near the window saves me. the air is still. the birds have ceased their crying. i hold an ice cube in my hand and make a list of darknesses.
SO SOFT, SO BLUE
i clumsily tower through bare trees. a hundred birds fly out of my mouth. i am not offended. here is a path: sick with excitement, i stumble; i am all skinned knees, hangnails, split lip. i am filthy and hot, sopping sweat from my hairline. now, something terrible: a girl as slender as a ghost. i take her in my arms. i begin by imagining the rupture, a wreck of scarlet. she speaks wildly, a bright prism of spit dangling from her mouth like a spider.
I WILL ENCOUNTER DARKNESS AS A BRIDE
she lies in the ditch while the wind moves above her. she struggles to show that she is not dead. her eyelids, her throat, fluttering. it is difficult for the dark to leave her alone. objects in the sky billowing. a lost tablecloth, a forgotten letter. things that once were flat, engorged. there is no one else anywhere in sight. she remembers to breathe, a rational beast.
SUMMONED
deborah. in a land flat, crowning. clouds passing rippling shadows over fields--large hands clasping a small child's foot. there is something to keep here; deborah took it and she left. deborah was determined. deborah, where she begins. something stunned her on the horizon. it might have been the sun. she was near the point; herself, she was all fire. deborah turned and gestured overhead, her hands marked by ink and soot.