From ECLIPSE, a manuscript in progress.
It began with black maps. Distant points of light.
Connecting the dots, she could see shapes forming in the firmament.
Fragments of bodies. An arm. A knee. The head of a horse.
Then like the writing of history, lines in the sand as the waves rolled in.
A great bell tolled once, & no more.
The medusa danced before her, flaunting its translucent skirts.
A hand rose out of the deep holding le mot juste, a blue pearl.
Thousands of songbirds flocked the darkening sky, an invisible river of wind,
of…