Field Studies Or The Floating Poem

By Ansley Moon

Field. Filed. Fled.

This is a field of tiny bones, all girls.

Beyond the field is a small pond/river/body of water. Where the mothers take the bonegirls & return alone.

There is an art to drowning.

A field is an open expanse of land—a grave.

First you must submerge the body. Best if head underwater.

A river—a bed of sediment, water & death.

You must be prepared to hold the baby girl asunder & not let go. Do not let go. You must be prepared to fight.

If you return with the girl, he will beat you & then kill you both.

I should not tell you this: survival is not made for two.

The hardest part will not be the water, but carrying your limp bonegirl back to the field

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