A long time ago, when I was real, I tried on A Dress Made of Mice. It is a dress covered in a thin layer of fur so ancient and alive, slipping into it casts a spell on dear reader, turned my one heart into three: gave me a ghost heart, an animal heart, and kept my own heart true. Erotic, and dangerous, and strange, this dress leaves behind the scent of fossil and fable, “ its thousands skins fluttering ghost gray.” When I slipped it off, I swear I heard it say: “ Come back from the dead and write one more thing.” Its “ teeth left a perfect circle on my thigh.” I don’ t know where Messer gets her golden needles, or how she has stitched such a cloak of kindness and weep and tremble. I dare you to find out. I dare you to try it on.– Sabrina Orah Mark