A lot of people enjoy being dead. I did. But one beautiful day I realized my heart had horns. It was surrounded by grapes and the rotating pelvis of a 12 year old boy. The ischia were encrusted with precious stones and glitter. Around that was a network of wires that supported hundreds of monarch butterflies and 13 cicada exoskeletons. The butterflies' raison d'etre was pretty obvious, and so too should have been the cicada shells, but what of the glass eyes that had been inserted into the split in the cavities, where the greatest insect alive or dead had crawled from after so many years of sleep?