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