by Byron Bailey
I thought that I would die old and alone, my bones crumbling on the forest floor but then you descended in your gleaming sky dwelling and found me.
At first I thought that you were a pervert intent on stealing my virtue. You spied upon me from a distance, watching me pound the roots into flour, watching me roll the flour into biscuits, watching me char the biscuits in the fire. You even watched me lick myself clean in the evening. I wasn’t offended, though. You were more attentive than I could ever expect in a mortal mate.
Admittedly, we may have problems in our relationship. You have only two legs while I have sixteen. But I am not concerned. The myths speak of such disparate marriages working. After all, if the ground and the sky can mate, we should have it easy.
I hope you know that you are a god. On the night of our engagement, you were so great that I can’t remember what happened. I felt a sting in the rump — the vermin here are fierce — and then saw your hazy form approaching me at last. The next thing I knew, I woke up with this necklace around my neck, bright orange made out of a beautiful material not of this world. I also found this matching earring stapled in my ear, the symbol “91” flashing green. I feel blessed that you have trusted me with this jewelry. I will never have to worry about losing it because I can’t figure out how to take it off. I only wish I knew what “91” meant.
Our wedding day is only going to be better. I have one small request, though. I really don’t need any fancy necklaces and earrings. I am a very simple soul. Plain diamonds and gold will do just fine. Also, I wouldn’t mind an earring for the other ear.
Copyright © 2004 byByron Bailey