How do you howl at the moon?
At 2:00 a.m. the moon bends down and fills my bathroom like a flood light. I shrug off this human skin, it slips to the floor without a shriek of protest, all the chatter and the whispers and the fretting drip off, tumbling down the stairs and scattering into the cracks.
Barebacked I see the valley of my spine shining like a fin. Half animal, half something else, I stargaze while this sharp seam holds the hemispheres of my body together.
Photo via Christine Mandich.