Moonsong Glacier kinunguur'uk ›‹

kukutux stared down at the cracked and bleeding nails sacrificed to the earth in the making of the ulaq. how many hours it had been, she did not know, only that he lay beneath a dome of soil. it was open to the air. the warmth had gone out of him; his limbs had stiffened.

the duck did not think of his name.

she wore his blood.

she sat outside the ulaq, watching seabirds wheel toward the massive expanse of salt; kukutux shut her eyes and began her song anew, unraveling it to the first word, and weaving together what he had lived. sorrow. pain. anger. in her cheek a cluster of seeds from the red flowers keres had found. they pushed kukutux from herself, until she became the glass in which a ghost might see its reflection.

her voice, her breath, thrumming in the cold air.