3 April 2013: I painted loquat leaves with menstrual blood and folded them between the pages of The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers (by Bhanu Kapil), tied it up with string. Buried in the yard, watered for days, then unearthed.
This is the email I sent to Bhanu:
We saw something in it that was asking for a burial. We could not ask it directly and so we began saving our blood. We saved our blood for a week and we kept it in our refrigerator. We kept it in a Glass jar that once kept foods which had nourished us. And we wrapped that jar in a black sock so our housemates would not know we were keeping blood in the fridge for a week. A week which is sometimes a month here or two. And so we kept our blood in this way. And so we keep.
We buried it. We did not know the rains were coming.
Loquat. The palm print. Interning — what was parallel. Kept. Thus nourished. In a space that could not easily be seen. By others.