Your Brain Is Yours
I am baptized by coins with a faint smell of elderflower. I transfigure, blink in one part of the house and then another. A holy night unfolds and stands weakly. A child chemist mixes a star in a test tube. Glass shatters lightly. I am a saint. I soothe with marmalade and tonic. I embroider a pillow and give it a squeeze. I attach a heavy gold necklace to a horse rump. We clang along across the empire. Every church window flies open in greeting. Every bell rings weary. I stretch my arms out and receive light. My face appears on a tree. Red flowers spring forward. I attend a funeral, and then another. My face appears in water, lightly distorted. I am tired like the ancients were tired.
Copyright © 2011 by Natalie Lyalin. Used with permission of the author.