Travel has left frost in my clothes. I carry the pale and the cold in my skin, in my small hands. The singular iris is strange. But I am teachable, I can relearn the human circuits. Kinswoman, are you she? To recognize is difficult. Get out of my way, you monster? Ah, you are she. I remember you. Front row in class, I receive the full blast. Go hide in the corner, you monster. And so on. Sidi-Nouman’s wife eats rice grain by grain but spits out corpse flesh. Father, I have no taste for graveyards. Leave the dead to bury themselves, and turn to light and heat. Agni, I bring you flesh of my experience, the tender morsels, meager offering, I know. Let the congregation speak in tongues, let them prophesy. Consume me and free me. And remember: in the freezing abyss, the universe was born.