On Being a Bower Bird June 2016~

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glitter

 

As usual I could not let this glitter flutter by.  I held it in my hands not sure what I would do with it but all that glitters intrigues me.  Though it is meant for some form of nail sculpting I fantasized the sparkling shapes and colors running through my hands, being applied to clay, paper and seashells.  Further decorating my current bower.

My first bower was an old nut tree.  A tree cave whose center branches reached upwards to the distant blue sky.  The outer branches heavy with prickly nuts swooped down to the ground in a graceful arch.  It was my secret place.

This is where baby ugly lived.  My baby ugly, a naked and dirty doll with holes punched into her lips and crotch.  So she could eat and then defecate wild choke cherries, their purple blood forever stained her chest where it dripped in sticky rivets.

Sometimes I’d wrap her in leaves or a toilet paper dress while I swept the bare ground, it’s gnarly roots poking out far enough to trip the not-so nimble.  A broom made out of branches that blew the dry summer dust all around inside the bower.  What I would have given to have glitter back then.  I had popping green seed pods and sickly sweet cotton tree fluff instead…….

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