Sprucing Our Wigs, Sadya and I Talk about Amulets, While I Contemplate Nothing
Words By Kineret Yardena, Art By Cocoparisienne
It is like this,
Although I think he’d rather not say.
They protect us from
curses, man jealousy
mean fun, mischief
His words, like old eyes
skilled in silence,
bend against the light. I wait.
But there is only this
and him, fingering rainbow curls,
and me, plaiting confetti ones,
and, outside, the voices of those who’ve gathered
in this one vacant violent vastness.
It has been like this,
for ten minutes at a time
staring into a brass mirror,
just a full-blown assault
of what does not exist.
Ten minutes later,
I look again.
We call into existence
that do not
he says much later,
like I’ve been caught admiring his
good-looking naked parts,
and he’s decided to be kind.
Out of nothing, there can be something.
I see, I say,
but I do not see.
Besides I don’t believe him. (Have you ever been to the Valley of the
It has to come from somewhere. (Everyone knows it was a wasteland. Some
holy man in the Bible said it was a wasteland.
It was a Wasteland.)
I don’t like what’s here to work with. (But they got there, and found it
flowing with springs.)
I want a different nothing.