When we slept it was in tombs.
We ate only dust bunnies and other
dust animals, stray beads and pens
and nickels lost beneath sofa cushions.
We read only folded up notes left in
pockets, old grocery and to-do lists,
sudden strokes of insight someone
wished not to forget but did. When
we brushed our hair pearls fells out,
as well as toads, newts, small snakes
and other slimy creatures commonly
associated with witchcraft. When we
spoke it was in the animal language
of scent, and when we had sex we
called it “making love,” because we
took medicine to keep from making
children, but we didn’t want the act
to be construed as futile. We were
creating something. With each breath
and shudder some hot spirit was
burned briefly into the cold world.
Jaye Nasir is a prose and poetry writer based in Portland, OR. Her work is forthcoming in Echoverse Anthology.