Shadow Play Lena Kinder
A flashlight lies on Eileen's chest. Its metal, heavy, lifts and falls against her bare skin as she breathes. On her wall, a spotlight mimics the movement. She uses her hands to make a shadow rabbit. It hops in the circle, plays alone. Eileen makes it a friend. A crocodile. Or bird. Something made up of the in-between. The crocodile-bird opens its mouth, talks to the rabbit. Eileen cannot hear its words, but the rabbit hops faster with delight. The crocodile-bird joins—up and down—faster they go, fast. Eileen and the light jump with them. They go in and out the circle. Go in and out of the dark. Eileen and the rabbit do not notice the crocodile-bird's jaw: wide, wide, wider.
|