Les Fueles Mortes

Evita was twenty eight years old when she got married.

She wove herself a man out of rainbows and stardust. His bowels were doorways leading into other doorways. When he spoke it was entrancing...like hearing the memory of a dream, or music one has forgotten and quite remember.

“I am yours to command,” the woven man said. He bowed low and curtsied as if he were gentleman of noble birth.