My husband has slain the king of the forest and eaten his spirit. I kept this secret until I could hang the crown above us. If you slay the king, you must reign in his stead or all things revolt.
I stretched the skin on the trees by the river. I crush the bone and brew the blood and scour the flesh with urine from the bladder till it grows subtle. I send my son for flowers, endless hunts for the last blossoms of the year still dry on their stalks. I tell him to dig out their roots and bring me the nodules. I make the paint and draw the sky once more into the shattered heavens. We made love as king and queen on the wedding bed of all things. We are the overseers now.