Its handle was polished antler, a thick curved blade sheathed in deer hide and tasseled. I lifted it from the bedside drawer and held it reverently. Never used to hunt, it was the tool that gutted an animal. Still it was termed for hunting, as if gutting were an act of the kill. I knew […]

I have thought about the monster—written him dark, sinister, sad. Made his wounds larger than my own, then not visible. Stolen his identity in poems where I suspect myself capable of equitable shame. Equated my injury to the length and breadth of his injury, then after prolonged investigation and the reading of books to search […]