A m u s e m e n t

When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the Grace are one.

               -T.S. Eliot, The Four Quartets

This scar appeared in seconds last autumn bathed in crinkly yellowish green air. A woman’s voice spoke. I do not know how to make sense of this experience. This scar on my artery appeared in seconds. My own flesh moved before my eyes to create it. How can I explain this experience? This is sorcery. I have been marked as cattle. Two people who chose to believe me have lost their minds.

C h i n d o g u . . .