interview

   Issue#3: April - June 2003

Conchitina Cruz

Begin then. Move your hand over your body, make the sign of the cross. Cover her, the nun says. What do you see? A naked woman, a torch, a skull. The triumph of science over death. What do you see? A statue wrapped in black cloth. I see nothing, I say.

 

Under the sheet is a body washed up a shore. Under the sheet is a face. Make the sign of the cross. Sign the form and tear along the dotted line, carefully. The moral of the story is forgiveness, but are there any other options? Begin then.

 

Make the sign of the cross. Carry a knife in your purse despite the statistics: the weapon you own may very well be used to kill you. Walk into the confessional, properly armed. The wooden saints watch over you, their faces trapped in expressions of pity.

 

Begin then. In the convent school, first grade, your face behind a veil. Make the sign of the cross. Not with your left hand, the man says.