We played those games too
- - -I saw two Eskimo girls playing a gameblowing on each other’s’ vocal cords to make musicon the tundra. I thought about howonce we played the same gameand the sounds blowing over the cords of our throatswas the same as a wind over frozen prairie.We are the Eskimo girls who playedthe game that night to keep ourselves warm.I run my hands over my daughter’svoicebox as she hums a songabout a seal and about killing the seal and aboutskinning it and rendering the blubberinto clear oil to light lamps.I remember you are my lamp. She remembersyou although you left before she arrived.I can never tell her about you.I will never be able to express that taste of your oilas we pushed our throats together.I will never be able to say howwe share this blemish like conjoined twins.I will fail you always to remember you.
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