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The Wolving Ritual

The Wolving Ritual

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Published by vandyketim746

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Published by: vandyketim746 on Dec 17, 2009
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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The Wolving Ritual
Outside my door my dolls were dead.And all I said was
Mama sews up death withbuttons. And Mama burns her eyes for love
, I said.I said
Poor Mama, she burnt her thread 
.That night my tears ran down to the river. The newsthey brought: they said the
 shiny buttons bring the birds they said that birds still skate across theriver. They might have come to lay a war. It's hard to tell. We came but coming closer got old. As such-- that is what your tears had said-- and wewho carry news--we their sons-- we live in the tinyexplosion of things.
1.OCTOBER 3, 3:35
We two stood alone outside the door.Mamun, the dark bird, too, all our  bodies. We touched like snow; wemelted into primadonnas, wantingto touch, not touching long for thecold. It was the girls. Our eyeswere filled with them. We staredthrough the chilly gusts eachtime a car passed, filled with girls,girls at the window, seeing us. They knewthat at twenty my mother had givenme her extra engagement ring, in caseI met one. I just didn't know therewould be so many. (Standing here now,we two, alone, you will not notice.You will notice first the bird, thenthe men, standing stubbornly apart, pissing circles around each other,daring and double daring for hours.)He, too, knew: on my right palmwas outlined the bees,marked in red pen, the buzzyintercourse that flowed between them,the girls, sometimes splitas if an axe had killed their youngand repaired each differently,casting shadows that did not fit.

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