took the cow’s back legs, the left eye of the goat she had dressed as the lord our savior, our little tree of moths. It took three fingers from my mother’s hands, hands that had wrapped deer meat in paper, that had sold for today just enough. I mean for the cow she made wings, sinew of toadshade and oak. For the goat, the eye of an elephant: that he might remember. That he might become a creature of the long view. I mean what she asked for, she received. To stand in the oracular here—I would shriek and riot. She tied a scarf across her mouth; she set the clean limbs burning.