Mater

This entry is part 29 of 51 in the series Une Semaine de Bonté

 

Page 29 of Max Ernst’s Une Semaine de Bonté

I cannot get this ocean out of my ear. It roars. It pounds. My nestlings clamor for worms, but I feed them fingers that the cat brings in from the jail next door, bloodless and gray. Somehow I’m OK with clammy things. I’ll lick the sweat off a brow just for the salt.

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