One of the women crouches at the edge of the cliff rolling things with shells over the edge. Clams, birds’ eggs, turtles, peekytoe crabs,
The harpoons of my mother’s legs as she tip- toed across the heavens, the only trace of her boredom a wrinkle in the lavender
In a different story, the animals conspire to become wolf by draping a cloak over their hulk and growling at women who pass on
“I began to pray daily, hourly… I took long rides out into the desert where I could be alone at prayer. I prayed with
