Day Eight

Head up, head down, step to the right—
STOMP
Squeaky twists his arms together. "We close our claws our jaws and flay—"
"Stars skeleton-strung," bugles Blue, raising one foreleg and then the other.
CLAP CLAP
I swing my tail and step to the left. "Eternity gapes in ice."
STOMP
As one we wheel. Ten thousand face back the way they came.
"Strip by crackling strip we sunder rent rip tear—"
"Bone by bone we reassemble revert reactivate reaffirm—"
HIIISSS—SNAP
We sashay backwards, heads swiveling left-right-left-right. Squeaky bumps into me; we stifle a giggle. The adults maintain exacting precision, armor just brushing armor.
"We save the solid and devour the soft."
A basso rumble shivers through my innards, the pillar-chimes' punctuation. I fumble through my woven back-basket in search of the nearest shell. There: a tendril lashes, curls tight, and I withdraw the victim. My siblings do the same, Blue struggling momentarily with the basket-flaps before folding them against any potential escapees.
Ten thousand snap their gifts skyward. The ceiling flashes with a grid of blue-green specks.
SCUFF-SCUFF-STOMP
I slide forward and Blue shifts aside and Squeaky steps back; each trio exchanging places as the living net descends.
Head back. Jaws open. Blue lunges— I've thrown too far upwards.
CRUNCH
crunch
The adults show no sign of irritation, even when the next verse suffers a brief bout of snorted laughter. This is, after all, a simple concert. We're not permitted to attend the more complex kind.
Not yet.
The day is coming, soon, when we will hear the words rather than merely sing them.

Legs the bars of galaxies, ribs enclosing nebulae, battery a blazing darkstar and neck and tail ravening particle jets; its eyes stare blank, fangs slivered rings of gas giants. The mounted skeleton of the universe. Its bones glisten black.
From its mouth dribbles pearled bloody streams: the last Silence Hunters making their exit.