24 June 2006


Fibrous Tissue

Dustjacket Watermark pulled the moon out of the sky and put it on a chain around his neck. His friends told him there was a scar in the sky where the moon had been. Dustjacket looked up. I don’t see it, he said. Keep looking, said his friends. Dustjacket looked up until the sun slid into view and left spots in his eyes. Dustjacket was dumbfounded. There isn’t one scar, he said, there’s dozens. He put the moon back. The spots in his eyes soon disappeared. The burn on his chest, where the moon had rested, remained until he died.

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