I find myself pinned to the page, right through the middle. My hands open and close around the silver shaft, struggling to pull it from my chest, but to no avail. This requires divine intervention.
A lovely woman bends over me, her face mild and untroubled. There is brightness all around her. She smiles. I am butterfly to her in size. She pulls the pin, and releases me.
How can I recover from having been impaled like that? Am I done for? No.
I flutter. I fly. I land on the hand of the great lady and she laughs in delight. Out of her laugh the universe is born.
Such sublime images! xoxox
I want to, Belle, I do. But I’m afraid that when I open my eyes I’ll find I’m still tied to the train tracks with the train bearing down.