the shimmering haze

She spoke not a whisper but stood there and looked and that simple gesture his knee-bones it shook. Her breast-piece was radiant epaulets too and naught was a nipple stuck there on her boob, and dark was the skin of her body and hair as she leaned in closer to poignantly stare. A fence in between them did keep her within and him on the outside stood there looking in and then she did turn her back letting him see the eyes in wing-clusters – a thousand and three. With nary a movement she was then away but turned back again in the light of non-day to once again meet up with his tracking gaze then once more did move through the shimmering haze. Twice more she appeared little more than a speck whence he did awake with a sweat-sheen bedecked and spoke to his mates born and bread in Bali about the dark angel he'd happened to see. 'She was the house guardian, that's what we think, so watch whom you bed down and watch what you think, and give her an offering, candy perhaps, and clear out all worries from your deep mind-traps, and light her some incense when you your home make and take care the needs of the gods here to slake for their power is such that they'll harm or care for people who in this place to settle dare. Now speak a few words to her and all the others for they are fierce fathers and all-watchful mothers.'

© americanifesto / 場黑麥