she lived on the only street
in Rattenberg, the smallest village

in all Austria. because it was all
she knew
and all she loved.

in the summer, she lived in the
kitchen
away from the flies and
the itching glow of the sun

sketching designs of glass crystal
and playing records
her father played from his armchair
when she was young.
the blinds closed, the shadows

of pedestrians drew sloping
templates of bodies large and thin
she guessed their faces and painted
girls with small noses and round chins
and made the men look like him.

her sister, from the neighbour town
called in the winter months, when
Rat Mountain devoured the sun and left
Rattenberg in day-night. she invited her
on walks, said it was not good
for her complexion to live in shadow

unmoved, she
preferred instead to pace the only street
in the welcome midday greyness
and smile quietly
at the pale faces she passed

when plans rumbled of a
contraption of mirrors to steal
the day's shine from her sister's town
she prayed to the moon

he would let them leave her alone
in the shadow of Rat Mountain
a child of the night

the girl who preferred the dark to the light
the lady-moth determined to stay in flight.