The Seas

by Samantha Hunt

My mother is regularly torn between being herself and being my mother.

Some nights I want Jude so badly I imagine I am giving birth to him.

Jude thinks he is too old for me. I think I could cut a strip of flesh from his upper arm and eat it.

“You are right,” he said again, shrinking. “I never kill spiders. I love spiders. I did it for you. I thought you might not like them.” “No, I’m not like that,” she said. “I love spiders too. I love crickets even more but I love spiders too.” Soon after, they were married.

“Look at my map,” I say, but I don’t have a map.

Everything is more than I could have imagined, like having a square ice cube in your mouth and you can’t swallow it. You have to let it drip slowly down your throat.