Wings on the Felt

I guided my detached white gloves into the warm glow of the tiny brass battery lantern nestled between two bolster pillows. Inside this dense corduroy sanctuary, the evening room felt completely sealed off and safe. As my floating hands hovered together and lightly crossed at the wrists, their silhouette bloomed across the taut cream flannel roof—look at that! Because I have no arms or sleeves to cast dark connecting bars, the shadow decoupled into two completely free, fluttering lobes, perfectly mirroring the scalloped margins of a swallowtail. When I gently rippled my gloved fingertips, the warm silhouette flapped smoothly across the woven fabric ceiling without a single draft touching me.