To become separate, divided into parts: the way children, bored after dressing and undressing their dolls, will snap off a leg or an arm or the head. Foretaste of power in the split- second, as something gives or gives way. How when you choose instead of are chosen for, you don't have to settle. Tell, if you like, the story of how the god left you waiting at the altar; of your monstrous anger and the blue-black wings it tailored for purging the countryside at night. On the ground, you leave the nether regions of that body ransacked and marked with every conquest. Where it severs from the cage of your heart, the wound is brilliant as pomegranate; its innards go on for miles. Long before that other seed grew into a child, you knew the stories they would weave: stingray whips, deadly poultices of salt; you and your hideous hauntings. How ordinary you look in sunlight. No one can imagine how wide the territories of ice in your sight, how you sustain those arguments with yourself through the year: cleave or forget? Soften or stay, but refuse to disappear.