Little Gals They come at night on membranous wings. I'm a soft deer browsing the woods with strands of willow in my pelt. When they lean in to call me out I shiver & shine in my thicket of one. Do they know about the botch in my belly? I think it's a gel where the white light rots. One says You know it's past time you bred & opens her mouth full of egg teeth. You must have some kind of hatch for it says another Or hole says the third clicking. All three hang in the night air identical silk faces identical jaw wires wanting to scoop me into their high humming. I gallop deep in shade past grease-marked trees to the lake where March mud dashes up my burning legs. But soon I feel them again at my belly spinning their round nymphal selves, pressing their hundred eyes. There is a red delight in the heat & snap of their pincers. They've made themselves so much finer this time new mouthparts new bodies burrowing all through my undercoat where I let them dig down into the dim places. Excerpted from Witch Wife by Kiki Petrosino All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
