Academic journal article Chicago Review

Your Sons and Daughters Will Be as Numerous As

Academic journal article Chicago Review

Your Sons and Daughters Will Be as Numerous As

Article excerpt

Folding down her boyfriend's second toe, Harmonia told him how he leaned over that turtle he reeled up the side of his ship, her lip, her face, her neck pulled to small tears by the weight of her truly beautiful shell, his cap in his hands, not far from crying, but focused, a needle he kept on his cap pinched between the trunks of his fingers. You chose this long, green string, perfectly matched, and sewed together her gaps with the precision of a jeweler. Hardly a nib full of blood. With the exactitude of proper kerning. It was possible, I saw, to remove her from her shell. You would stitch a cap of fir and spruce to her raw edges, and she would chew through the winter like a pika in our library, in a room lined with poisonous flowers, cozy, cramped, but all she really needs. I was already swimming for your line. You could smash that shell into earrings to accentuate my face. I was ready to watch my fingers enter your rectum underwater.

Harmonia pushed his middle toe down with a very light crunch.

You lowered your epic head over your bounty, weeping down the fire escapes of her scales, her feathers, the broken finger bones of her parchment wings. The poor little bat. Your scurvy lips apologized intensely to each other for days. My dear. My dear. What have I done. The budgerigar laid her citrine head against the inside of your forearm. …

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