Bildungsroman

Something was an open eye.

There were bright things cut like glass and spackled together. Some will tell

you that from far enough away you will see a woman kneeling and weeping

into her hands. Others say it is a great reef. Or the vascular system in an

ageless tree. Then

horrible things happened. Grief came on the heels of yesterday morning's

hike up a wet hill, dark and not yet dawn, shimmering like the thousand-

eye of a spider. And yet the dawn for all we knew really was a chariot drawn

across the horizon. Every night was a tragedy in a single act; every night

was the twinkle of a forgotten light atop a buoy no one else ever saw

except in the morning. But better notes too were written,

and we left them in patient cursive on our pillows

to remember us by.