we put our faces in hat boxes after
the sunday service. everyone worth their soot
had been sacrificed to the father-maker.
at home, the clothe came like a dragon.
enveloped the whole living room. all i was doing
was trying to smile. the mirrors had grown eyelashes.
no more birds for the year. mother got the stork scissors
& promised she would be quick. being a daughter
is always quick. a chair with no legs.
empty dinner plates. sons in the fire place.
no more wood, we must use boys. she said, "now,
they will know you belong to me."