Say Chicken Little was right, that the sky is falling. What I want to know is, will the moon fall too? Will it bounce softly like swiss cheese, or will it crumble like a stale cookie? Do skies bruise? Do they ache? And is the sky a metaphor for all the ills and evils of the world? A testament to how the earth can only hold so much pain and grief? But why would God send a chicken? Would you listen to a chicken? Is the chicken a metaphor for Jesus? Did the Bible mention this and somehow I missed it? Is this because in 6th grade my teacher made me promise Jesus my virginity in a gift basket? Actually, if the sky falls,
Backlit by the glow from a small passageway, he kneels into the fog of yellow light, head kissing the carpet. I step around him, respecting his privacy, when the mat becomes not prayer rug but builder’s tool, a black piece of tarmac, laid down before the bank so he could peer close, fix the dead motion sensor so that people with money could be seen, all doors opening for them.
CLARICE All his victims are women… His obsession is women, he lives to hunt women. But not one woman is hunting him—except me. I can walk into a woman’s room and know three times as much about her as a man would.
A starling catches me in a dress
and pierces my chest two times,
deeply, and I cannot blame her.