What if we never left this room again?
Wondered some concatenation of familiar
Characters while daughter perished a word
Game on a screen in a wicker chair and
The long clouds descended to create
A twilight of agonizing extension over
One of the longest days of the year. Tell us
Something we don't know, sometimes,
Whispered the invisible readers, which,
Like future wealth, must've surely somehow
Already existed even though they didn't.
I can't tell you anything you don't know,
Moaned the conglomerate, unless I confess
What your language can't accept, not even
Under duress. Everything hurt, a little
At least. Then the puddle of circumstance
Pulled itself together long enough to bare
Its collective breast and breathe this: I am
That which hisses cedth ish vesperetg, thth.
The light was green and gray in the window
Of the little wooden cabin by the lake.
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