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 they They terrified us. They were the gnarled roots of where her life was going or had goneexposed. They didn’t keep her from walkingshe barely walked anyway. They were her yellowed ivory keysunplayedher twin sets of venomous spears. (How did they ever fit inside her shoes?) They were her rage hardened to a brittle clasp of curls. They were the last to stop growing. They were her Medusa ringlets of keratinized horn. They were sirens of beetles; they clicked when she talked. They were a plague on both her daughters. They were so hard we soaked them before cutting them. They resprouted overnight, insidious fungi in the rain. They were the one ugly unforgivable thing about her. They are what happens when a mind lets a body go. ...

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