When a woman tells a story she is remembering what will be. What symmetry, or asymmetry, the story passes through the orifice directly beneath the wide-spread antlers, curved horns of ritual at her head, just as it passes through the orifice between her open legs. Labrys. How could she not know?
When a woman tells a story it is to save. To husband the world, you might say. Thinking first to save her mother, her daughter, her sisters, Scheherazade tells, her voice enchanting, saving him in the bargain.
When a woman tells, oh veiled voice, a story.
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