dancingit was her way , so she came before them all , creating by the uplift of her face , the splay of her feet , a space : she dances , bertha is dancingarms which slowly rise and fall , bird wings , long , liquid lines , up and down swirling her shawl she pivots slightly , slowly , turning full circle by small movements ... she alights upon dalores shoulder , sharing the play of the shawl , coos : a very soft baby sound , small , ever so wee ... with it begins her flock of breathing , up and down and around dalores who rises upon the softness , upon the quiet of the huffy invitationshe becomes hard : rock , the firmament , raising her arms straight above her head , an arrow , solid ... the shawl is stuck upon her upraised hands , finger impaled as ever more softly does bertha move about so harderintense , densea diamond does dalores become ... fierce of face , soul leaking from her eyes in pearl drops as she presses herself withinstrains most fiercely , mightily , a face of repulsion , resistance , abhorrencewarding off bird sounds , scarecrow to comforting coosbut they are bound : snagged by the shawl ... this now what they share , all which they share , only what they shareumbilical cord and hangmans noosethey are the steely hardness of the cock , the projectile , the bladesteel silence : the immobility of a bulletportending shattering of bone , puncturing of heart , stealing of breaththey are tableaux : an imagination which grips the sisters ... an inexplicable play of hard and soft , but yet so explicable ... generating heaps and heaps of images , remembrances , vivid daydreams , nightmares !