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77 ANOTHER GOVERNESS The nursery is filled with books. There are books on the carpet. There are books on the chairs. The crib is filled with books. The covers of the books are black. Each page is a cat, the skin of a cat. The children flip the cats. They rub the cats. They scrape the cats with their nails. The children are vastly changed. They are quiet. They are piles of black fabrics and cats. They are cats. They are little skinned cats. I open a book. I try to look through the book, the holes in the book. I open the holes with the knife. I see my foot. I look through the hole in my foot. A carpet is made of strings, black strings. The strings come up through the hole in my foot. Tamworth has a hole, says Spot. Tamworth has a hole in her foot. I laugh. Spot is quiet. He is a book. The children are books. They are quiet. I don’t hear you, I say. It is quiet. I hear drips. Above, I hear bangs. I hear jerks. I hear scrapes. Don’t move, I say. Don’t move. You are a book. A book is filled with skin. Little skins. 34 78 JOANNA RUOCCO You need to clean the hairs from the skins. You need to scrape the hairs from the skins. Spot is changed. He sits on the chair. No, he tips over the chair. He lies on the carpet. He takes down his trousers. He puts his hands on the hairs. He scrapes with his nails. He scrapes. He scrapes. Hairs fall on the carpet. Tamworth squirms. She has her hands in her thighs. She scrapes. She scrapes hard. She kicks the runners of the rocking horse. She kicks the belly. She kicks the neck. She pushes her body backwards. Her dress bunches. Her white thighs are very big. Her head touches the iron leg of the crib. Her white thighs are marked with fluids. They are shapes, red shapes. It is a map, a wet map. It is the field. It is the town. Where is the nursery? I say. I crawl close to the map. It smells. Little white hairs root in the shapes. At the roots, red. At the tips, white. The skin shakes. I put my mouth on the shapes. I smear the shapes with my mouth. They taste hot. They taste thick. Tamworth hits my nose with her wrist. She moves her wrist. Between her thighs, she scrapes. She scrapes. She makes a hole. A worm crawls out. I put the worm in the crib, in the rags in the crib. I look down at the crib. I look down at the children. I smile. I make the shape of the nursery with my mouth. ...

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