generation effect
Do not forget I have nobody to project war onto When I weep into your reflection your face is too tender Your mouth is shaped like the promise I made at eight years and so I have to tape my body back together Will you thank me I mean what benevolence is it to hopscotch a tightrope My hands are crude My nose is like a killer shark Please don’t look at me like Haven’t you ever held yourself to something besides fierceness Believe me I already know how my blood flows in reverse I know I was born but not anything after Here is something to love Here is something to break Here is something to eat if mommy lacks nutrition after birth How many nights will I prepare When the wolves come they are not for you I promise they are not for you You will not believe me you will not Believe me
in the hierarchy of apparitions you are next to last to disappear
Is it too little to know the stars you see are already dead I cannot explain why the gravity of tiny moonlets still wounds me why I bleed in circles why I cradle the grief without a body You like to pretend in the snow your hands are always reaching for me but you’re not touching me in any right way Only when the planets align will I love you perpendicular Then I’ll cry around the point I’ll cry in refracted angles I’ll cry near and in close proximity to the hyacinths Don’t you know I witness a war on symmetry every night You are a dead-ringer for it how you never give up the flashlight So darling turn off the light This is not my voice
how to skin a muskrat
To skin a muskrat, you will need the proper tools: a skinning knife, a fleshing board, a sharpening stone. But first, wash it gently in the river, rinse the mud and silt from its fur, scrub the algae from its ears. Avoid brushing any sand into its eyes—you know how badly that stings. Carry it home; on your way, don’t hold your breath and listen for signs of life. It will need to be hung up to dry, so find some wire and a hook. You can easily make a drying rack, with a board and a couple of nails, spaced three to five inches apart. Try not to think about how muskrats dislike hot, dry weather, how they even have a bodily mechanism to regulate blood flow and keep themselves cool (regional heterothermia). You may be tempted to wait until the next day to skin it, but don’t wait too long. Muskrats spoil easily, and it is best to spare it tenderness. Place the muskrat, belly down. Think about the exact moment, swift as a guillotine, that an animal’s fur becomes a pelt. How easily your hands move, repetitive movements ingrained into muscle memory. Muscle, bone, sinew. Muscle, bone, sinew. As you work, think about how your own skin can’t help you float in water. Pop the legs from underneath. Cut the eyes at an angle to free the tear ducts. From here, the water will never run clean. You will know you’ve done it right when the fur comes loose with a tug and not a tear, but know this: any skin can be a selkie’s. At night, this fur will warm you; it will settle across your shoulders like an extension of yourself. Hold it like a prayer. Say thank you. Call it by its name.