Being Aries in Sylvia Savala’s Swimming Pool
For Sylvia Savala
I never believed in the plot. The rising action, the climax, or the fall. The little chalkboard mountain that an animal could climb over. I was a ram, stubborn. My blue dress converged to pain belts at my thighs. I began to wonder if the men in Sylvia’s paintings could hear us charting our attributes. I didn’t believe in the plot. I just thought that maybe a ram is combustible with a ram. Now I write a story with this in account. It’s not a plot. Just two rams making fights in the snow. In the morning, we talked shit and devoured cold fruit and fish.