December 29th, 2014

I want to address this to you Steve, though you have long forgotten our talks and the way they felt both like the velveteen rabbit and a scarlet fever. Never mind, I am happy to have those conversations as references on this map. Over there, by Mt Revelation, on which you said "I don't know who has hurt you to such a degree that you no longer take yourself seriously, but you must stop treating your body and heart casually, and stop allowing men to bruise you" is where I last wore this dress that I am about to burn. It is tight and sheer and it has every vital vein of my body stitched onto it in silver, I guess so the vipers would know where to strike. I have always been very kind to my enemies. Steve, it will make the most glorious snapping sound when it burns, like pine sap crackling or birch bark curling back in flame. I will send you the ashes if you like in a little box. You see, your voice was a hand when I needed one, and a sword knighting me when I needed that. How easily I brandish my own sword now! If I thought it wouldn't terrify your small children or whatever woman you are in love with at the moment, I would send you, in hat boxes, the heads of men who wished to bruise me. And right now, right now, I am sitting by the Lake of Solace and looking into quiet waters which appear gray and then purple and then, suddenly, to spark with the cool fire of a waxing moon.