THE ETYMOLOGIST

It was days away

from the Feast of Samhain

and Día de los Muertos.

It was the Sabbath and a full moon.

It was a day full of ritual and council.

It was on this day

that the woman

deep in her sorrow said:

I am learning how to die!

She was as porous

as the veil was thin. As lean

as a vanishing dream.

It was later that afternoon

during a break

in the day’s activities,

apropos of nothing,

that the spinstress

and amateur etymologist,

in the wiliest of ways, announced 

with great authority:

Obliterate.

Now there’s a word

worth remembering!