ESURIENCE

I was ravenous. Insatiably so. So I ate the House again. The cedar shakes, warped shutters. Then the window and screens—spitting out the glass.

The doors gave me indigestion, but I soldiered on. Eating the sandpaper roof shingles. Smiling with bits of chimney bricks in my cracked teeth—when the neighbors sauntered in.

I devoured the living room next. The white sofa was especially delicious. I would no longer have to  brush it clean with Woolite this weekend.

Then I attacked the kitchen. Greedily consumed the Fiesta ware that does not chip. Its saffron orange, peacock blue, eggshell white, and aubergine–of particular note.

I ate the master bedroom next. The antique poster frame bequeathed to me. All the Van Goghs, a Pollock, Rothko. The staring Mona Lisa. So there.

I sat in the rubble almost satiated—patting my burgeoning stomach. There was more work to do.

I ate the trees. And started weeping—not just for myself but for the plump robins, catbird, yellow finch, woodpecker, and sparrows. I devoured the maples first, then the apple tree, roses of Sharon, the white butterfly bushes, the spent lilacs (blueberry and French pink).

Hawks alighted to the next door neighbor’s tallest pines and witnessed the crunching of the patio furniture that had become rusted underneath three feet of winter snow. Half-heartedly, I ate the dog’s fence while he and the cat watched.

I spared the menagerie of mellifluous birds–their sanctuaries of wooden feeders, their new terracotta bath, their weathered houses.

Tomorrow, I shall wake very early from troubling dream patterns that cascade—sharp sea glass I impatiently stole from the shores of night wandering—and had strung on a necklace to keep the ghosts of the property at bay.

Yes, tomorrow I shall remove the odd necklace and bury it in the woods far from me.

I shall make a pilgrimage to the priest, remove my shoes, and tell him everything. Of the sorrow tangled in my sea hair, my desire, at times, for unification.

When I return, I shall rewrite other possible endings that will begin again.

I am confused by all this.

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