53. I always wanted a son. What was I? A fairy? I stood behind Attracta & the stars were as clear & sharp as knives. I put the jug down on the table. I think I wanted to listen. She was good singer, with her hair slung over her shoulder, wrapped up in a black velvet band. & then well I didn’t push. I just took a step forward & she screamed. I put my hands out but she flew. Up & out through the glass with the pins in her mouth, the material in her hands. Glass everywhere and I was running through it. Up the stairs, slipping & flopping in my stockinged feet like a seal. I thought I’d never get to the top to where Greta was standing, her face as white as a daisy, the bicycle lamp tight in her hands.

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