– David Bowie, “Moonage Daydream
The corpses of my ancestors make beautiful art, a sculpture garden around me. The moonlight twinkles on the veins of quartz in their petrified flesh.
“And so the Almighty creates the earth, the sky, the world as we know it, with a story, with the spoken word.”
The snake didn’t bite me. It bit Orpheus, and his lyre twanged discordantly as he fell to the ground.
Anet stands at the head of the grave pit where they’ll bury the box: six inches by six inches.
She of the flitting legs and the wet-sheened exoskeleton, the straight neck and enticingly rounded abdomen.
“I betrayed my humanity when I helped that mermaid, I suppose.”
For a time, from a distance, the old oars moving in rhythm, you can remember our history. The axes and swords and shields. The howling of the berserkers.