It's hot today. I'm glad they built no tent though men will come just to watch women now. This goatskin's soft under my knees, my garment pillows my head. Cups—for water, for rent— rest before me, stuck in this active bow. Young boys walk around. Some carry the cool water we women need. Some want to choose one or another. It's only one day each cycle. It can be sweet, almost play but I mostly close my eyes. I won't see their faces. It's better that way. God sees my offering—and the coins the boys drop in that other cup. I know it will stop when sun sinks and the slivered moon rises. I wash b