My feet will hurt but it won’t matter, wrapped up safe and loved right back I’ll be and have a voic and tell him things I think and not just point and try to grunt or draw things. When he loves me everything will melt and reset properly. I will be important, let to mix with people. And he won’t pat my head as though I were a dog, because he’ll love me.
You can do amazing things, if only you can get sufficient sailors.
And I will have the water and the land and the singing and the dance and the sort of babies we will have won’t come from eggs. I think about it sometimes and I jerk and twitch because I’m so excited.
Forty or so. A boatload and a half.
‘Shh’ he says to me when I get like that. ‘Shh, my pet’. As if I could. As if I had a voice.
- Deirdre Sullivan