I keep the skull and some of the bones, glue the jaw together, the teeth in their places. Last summer I sought out that tree in six hundred acres of woodland, found it tapped it played it for a drum. II Moonlight shifts on my wall the shapes of ice in water and whiskey. Outside, green hills grown with trees are rolling, curving into sky. Cat A cat of granite tongue roughs my finger, rubs against my boot toe and the concrete step.
Palms work flour into dough, dough into patties.
Muscles in the hands do a slow turn from push to pull, push to pull. Squares of dough enfold meat and spices. Pinch corners, drop into cooking oil. Motions of jaw, tongue and throat bring sustenance to my belly. Crystal speaks at his gesture.