After That

Every story has its lean meat and its solid church so he started to rape her for years. However, owls close their eyes in the daytime because they’re awake all night, and she waited for him at the handle of his hunting knife the bells ringing afterward with the kind of lust she’s always known. After that her flights were silent and her voice, of rats and mice. I don’t understand sorcery or omens even eyes as penetrating as hers, but under her feathers and all along the tips of her flight where she’s let me touch her, I’ve kissed her fright.