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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.