The strangers in the woods must mimic squirrels and crackle with the undergrowth. They must not flinch at the cruelty of breaking golden leaves with their feet, or of interring stones. // Rigoberto Gonzáles, The Strangers Who Find Me in the Woods
we follow Moirai down as she points
at the homes of the unturned stones
there
and there
and once there
we are as graceless as sinking pigs
but a sight less cruel somehow
breaking leaves
spouse and spouse
child and child
(there and there
and once there)
archeologists will discover a paradise
in the place no touch died of neglect