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I've taken to talking to the animals. They listen as though interested, the squirrels bright-eyed, the dogs with their heads cocked, the kitten attentive and questioning. The crows talk back, their husky caws, counting along with me. Cat puts her paw to my breast, purrs in reply. I tell them my dreams, how the sky opens up for me, takes me in like a lost child. The stars step back, make room for me. I fly, untethered, unbound. I tell them all I've lost, besides myself. I ask: what am I supposed to do? They laugh their booming laughter. They tell me there is no 'supposed to', there only 'is'. There is only what I am doing this moment, sitting at a machine, asking it to translate my human self. The ground opens up for me, takes me in like a found child. I take from it that lightning, that darkness that explodes inside. It tells me who I am, what I am, this standing-up animal of self. I lift my ears, I cock my head, I caw and growl and lift my hand to my own breast, here, my-self, in here, some- where. It opens up for me, takes me in like its own child. What am I supposed to do? Open up. Open up.