The naked parrot issued a squawk, the boughs of orchard trees watched it with some fascination. She turned devoted to the forest older than humanity her face the face of an old actress glistening with rain a night animal’s mystery wandering aimlessly slave to a fiery obsession the hand of Fate breathing in moths: substitutes for air individual beasts In the darkened villa her black dress shimmered like crocodile skin.
Cocoon wrapped, soft and kind lovers grow out of my shoulders, I feed them on milk tea and toast, cover their limbs in soft wool and linens kiss their eyes, trace their skin and whisper to them of constellations hoping some day to have their bodies pressed against mine dissolving the terror.