Beneath her coat was a whole identity:
A subtle form of ideas under soft fur,
A constantly shifting mass of meaning...
And somehow, she pulled it off.
She would go for days without shedding a thing,
And then, as if a bottle rolling off a counter,
She would shatter, sending shards of self flying,
And then we'd all see.
Then we'd all see the terror, the joy,
Then we'd all see the grief at nothing,
Then we'd all hear her say,
"I'm not built for a life with death in it."
And slowly, she'd pick herself back up
And find a brand new way to piece herself together
And build herself a brand new smile
And brush out her coat once more.
Bio: Makyo is a writer, editor, and publisher living in the Pacific Northwest. She has helped edit [adjective][species], a metafurry resource and blog, and edited *Arcana - A Tarot Anthology*, an anthology of short fiction centered around the major arcana, out from Thurston Howl Publications. She is editor-in-chief of Hybrid Ink, an independent publisher focused on thoughtful writing. She lives with her two dogs and her husband, who is sometimes also a dog.