Royals Primary has the second grade corralled into the gym.
"What you want to do," I tell the kids, "is draw a mask that looks a lot like your face. As close as you can get it, except we're going
...
[+]
Knowing you by touch alone—
A relief of scales, a battle-scarred carapace
Wrapped around your fiery bones.
The mist would cling to us
Like a skin after I sloughed mine off.
In relentless fog, I would teach myself rebirth
Away from curious eyes.
You would know me by touch alone—
Raw skin, sticky ectoplasm
As I learned to reconstruct myself
In the cradleland of blind prophets,
Penumbral dreamtides,
And abyssal monsters
Of which I would love you most.