Page 68

“He was not a fancy man in the manner you were.  He was scholarly, mild in manners, bold in intellect.  I chose that moment when my mind could soar, my body shot through with fire, then ice, and then the burning again.  I chose when to arrange my legs and ankles in scented shapes.  I chose to lock them, knees pressed tight.  And now until the end of my days, I chose to remember.


I remember you, my husband.


My husband, I remember to offer food, burn incense, bring flowers to your grave.

My husband, I remember you.

My lover?


I forget.”

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