They are spells, the women I know, and today, a woman sat in front of a panel of men who, I have to try to believe, were too once boys who shivered in the yard, a woman sat and had to say again and again, it happened, it happened, and watch the glass panes of the once- boys’ faces remain unlit and only echoing back, with their short vocabularies, are you sure, are you sure, are you sure.
