Behind The Scenes

Work has been taking place. Müleskinders have been contacted. It  may come as a surprise, the work’s silence and invisibility belying its noteworthiness. But only for a moment. You will appreciate the pause and see the necessity. Care has been taken, the wording formalised and yet left flexible for those who might need it so. There have been some exchanges, which we have welcomed  while judging they should remain veiled for the moment. Suffice it to say that between polite and appropriate acknowledgments there have been poems, preliminary researches narrated with barely concealed enthusiasm, expressions of thanks, gestures of surrender, and one declaration of love. Meanwhile other Müleksinders have kept their council. They also have our respect. With a narrowing of their eyes they have read and held back their interrogations, but only so that interrogations might be alloyed all the more effectively in their responses. In a few cases our search has drawn a blank, indicating that circumstances have been rendered more complicated by our communications than a reply would allow. Likewise, decisions for continued anonymity we accept without question.

The INVITATIONS TO WRITE have been sent like bread cast on water. What will the tide cycle return? We are tempted to say that we know already. Will each disappoint us? Will it do so in that exquisite and demanding way saying: accept, make changes if changes are needed but turn in to make them? A change behind the scenes. Your turn to work. Work on first person plural. Do it just enough so that receipt can be taken, not so much that the work of change itself appears. You imagined we were in plain view. Not so. What you have seen is the Bottleboddy. The body wrapped in burlap, whitewashed, bandaged with paper glued in strips showing signs of exposure, of aging, glue crystalised and yellowing in the sunlight, beneath the window, the wrapping slipping but repainted, spruced up to sit in its little place in the entrance hall, by the Christmas tree, against the wall’s flaking where it seems in keeping, while discarded coloured wrappings are pushed into the space beneath the table.

Bottleboddy, fragile bladder of blown glass in shredded coats pasted to its round, sliver of rounded glass with greenish hue in hardened bladder-form beneath brittle skin of cotton rag, skin of crusted glue barely holding flask and cotton coating, smooth-cast rag coat against the glossy skin of glass.

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