Different this time. They are
sadder. You remember what
your husband said: Every sound
reflects your experience.
Imagine: You unzip
the mosquito net, trail your palms
against pine, snap palmettos
off bushes: giant fans
and also, warnings. You are
a giant breadcrumb tethered
behind 100 yellow eyes. Your
daughter, asleep on the backs
of spiders, dreams of your
spine folded neatly
like soft, worn muslin. She
recalls this as you break
down the tent then wait
for a howl, a revelation.
What would they tell that
you did not already know?
Chelsea Epperson
Chelsea Epperson is a writer living in Tampa, Florida, who facilitates menstrual health workshops in association with The Fifth Vital Sign.
Artwork: “The coyote serenade on the Great Plains of North America,” Line engraving, 19th century, public domain.
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