NIGHT UNDER THE SHADOW
When the boy opened his eyes in the morning, the nightingale’s head was missing. He put his hand in the cage, took out the stiff bird and started to lick the body that had separated from the head. The bird’s blood was sweet and warm. He carefully examined the area around the cage but could not find the head. His mother was asleep in the adjacent bed. Her white thigh had slipped out from under the covers. He slid down from his bed somehow, approached his mother, and ran his little fingers along her velvety skin that was like peach fuzz. He had seen his mother carefully shaving her soapy legs in the bathroom once, after which she had applied some lotion that smelled like sour cream. He liked to rub his cheek along his mother’s smooth, clean skin like a cat, and this w
