I was not immune, and I would not leave undamaged. I must have rolled in the beds of wild rose, for the tiny thorns- small, yellow- pierced my skin. Their poison is desire and it dissolved in my blood. And, too, the cats made me one of them- sleek and without mercy. Avid, falling hungry upon the defenseless body. I want to grind men's bones to drink in my night tea. I want to enter them the way their hot shadows fold into their bodies in full sunlight. I want to be their food, their harmful drinks.

To this day, I still hurt.

Love Medicine.