You pull her up on two-strings, one-string, ten strings. You make her dance her necessary steps, and then you stand her still.
I see faces in the ice. There's a word for it: pareidolia. Sometimes I see an arm caressing the body of the glacier, its reach expansive.
The first time I took you from your grave, there were spaces where your eyes used to be.
It's quiet in the laboratory today, so I do some paperwork. The office has made a code for thingy-maternal hemorrhage kits, so I can order one without typing the f-word. Without appropriate testing and treatment, pregnant women might develop antibodies.