Woman whose sister husbanded a woman for ten years then flew away. Light chill juniper. A yellow bedpost. The caged veneer of her, a caterpillar sprouting wings. Here to go else, a wise tractor pull once stated this would, this wood, this rude awakening in the duvet, lumped under lampshade, gathered, purred. The light of the mattress transformed. She is another. Shaped twist telling a lie straight, as if to deliberate in the staying on, measure the kept-up years, confounding stairs for shoplifters. Empty but for the Chinese contraption. But who was she enticing? That racehorse-heralded heart-thumping mirror of whispers, herself the starlings’ given penchant for dawny roads. Departure, a bright red stool and the edge, trickling open, like evergreen-berry in her mouth. Room biting, underlit. Ledge, pale grey armfuzz, the rings and her bracelets she cuffed was herself banking against the ornate dream still plush with the flush of decades ago. Hovering, the recalled collected in a mercurial basin. The horizon veered, fluttered. A farther spot came momentarily into visible gauze. Filter in the bay window, in the once-spent bedroom.