#41

Tabitha tapered to a pose. Lucas kneeled in some stone cathedral. "Still-lighted in a secret shrine." Where the sun, embroidered in silver, parted clouds for the crossers of plains. Mediastinum, spoke the sage. You will strike it from the books. Each a partner like a house of cards and remembered many failures. Catechism, primal naming. "Jennie, Blake, the moon, the sky." Or so read the donna from her tower and her knitting.

In the woods, Actaeon bent towards a bristled flower, and the Bogart nestled in a hollowed tree. Tender, these sleepers with eyes. A kind of lucid cunning that led them. A cyclamen that dies, and then flowers, like a word. "Have you not seen," said the dream, "where the path will lead you?" As Sean, in the real, purchased jeans, and charged them to his credit card. Virtue. Billboard. Strength. Such a terrible time for walkers. For Les, Kerry, Erica, Rich, Jeehyun, Micah, and Sam.