THEY KEEP COMING BACK ALMOST RIGHT

By Akiko Amora

I didn't set out to collect them. The first one appeared at a market — the teal one, with the wide flat wings and the open mouth and the legs that are slightly too confident for the body they're carrying. Someone had thrown it, glazed it that particular blue-green that sits between sea and sky, given it eyes that were not an afterthought. I picked it up and put it down and picked it up again. I bought it.