Spirit World

All of the women deep

in the Gloom dream

each other from toddler

to crone while they count

others' deaths whether

from childbirth or beating.

Dressed in shifts not

shrouds, they bend away

from me as I glare at them.

"I've asked you to leave me.

I mourned you! I want

you to stop! How much sorrow

must I bear for ancestors

whose will was surmounted

by teleology? Not my fault

when I live and you die.

Death becomes us. All of us."

"But little man," they say,

"Whose Worm genders death

alongside life? You believe

you can escape your Fate?

Think binding women was

Abel's husbandry? As though

men were beholden to none

but gods? Your grasp will

never be enough."

[dramatic monologue] check

the bowl uncovered