Catch the girl with a net spread up in the forest canopy. Take her alive. Take her home. Poke out her eyes and put her in a small cage. Force-feed her oats and millet and figs until she has swollen to four times her normal size. Drown her in brandy. Roast her whole, in an oven at high heat, for six to eight minutes. Bring her to the table. Place a cloth a napkin will do over my head to hide my cruelty from the sight of God. Put the whole girl into my mouth, with only the beak protruding from my lips. Bite. Put the beak on my plate and begin chewing, gently. I will taste three things: First, the sweetness of the flesh and fat. This is God. Then, the bitterness of the guts will begin to overwhelm me. This is the suffering of Jesus. Finally, as my teeth break the small, delicate bones and they begin to lacerate my gums, I will taste the salt of my own blood, mingling with the richness of the fat and the bitterness of the organs. This is the Holy Spirit, the mystery of the Trinity three united as one. It is cruel. And beautiful.
