Dear Wigleaf,

There's been a problem with the wildlife in your absence: think about how everything feathered will one day fall from the sky and snap branches, and on the way down, how we’ll grieve for them. Science now makes unimagined forms of eavesdropping possible. If you listen, a dog's breath hangs from her mouth in icicles, and look, young bucks die and get left in the street, it happens. You'd think I was the one who did it, the way the cats stare. None of the animals have been acting right. They don't startle like they used to. Before, I drew the curtains and the bugs would scatter. Now there's just one the size of a man and it's rare to inspire so much as a stir out of him when the sun shines through. I'm saying there are consequences. I cupped a moth in my hands and challenged it not to touch me, but that's a losing game, isn't it? The elephants fondle their dead family's bones for hours. Sometimes, with thick lashes, they get down on their knees.



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Read ML's "My Cold and Its Cure."

w i g · l e a F               08-23-11                                [home]