We’re in velvet and satin, decorated with lace and pearls, our dyed high heels sinking into the grass. We find the river, walking at midnight, our gowns stained by mud and moss. The last dance was an hour ago. The boys aren’t too far behind. Their shouts and whistles call to us, the music ends.

We swim with the alligators, snapping our teeth, submerged in the river. We wait for the wingless birds to fall and then we pounce. We re-grow our limbs on the shore, one leg, one arm at a time. We are one of thousands, crawling over branches. We look for the snakes but the snakes hide from us. We want flesh and we want it all. 

The boys see us in the trees. They climb as fast as they can and wrap around us in the nests. We are safe now, they tell us, do not cry. We don’t ever cry. We scream.