we lost our sense of taste, touch, smell, hearing, and sight
like an old movie it was getting harder to remember
the characters faded
the story wandered around and then died
no more music
the setting, tarpaper and sawdust, fell into the river Alph behind it
sometimes we had the vague sense of still being people
muscle memory
visual echoes
curves through space
suggesting lovers
but it could just as easily have been bananas
hanging on the counter
the droll regard of Kalika, the Black One
like the feeling of a hostile but bemused gym coach
eyeing your skull and squeezing the ball
we stand like stumps under the lights
watching them unfold
some we had seen before in pictures
others were new to us
curls of color fluttering over the sky
strange gods catching cold
and sneezing
the sky fluttering shut like a balloon
the dry rain summons our children
witnesses to our destruction
grass under our backs
pressing against our spines
looking for nutrients
Kalika don’t walk so slow
I want you to dance
raising the sun over your shoulder
pinning the moon under your stomach
squeezing until they pop
and the blood pours out
back up against the stars and spin
turn the wind into knives
turn the earth into cheese
turn the night, flashing hollow eyes
out on the table
you have rolled two deuces and a five
you have one more roll
will you take it?
this is your son’s life
don’t worry, he’s safe with us
we want only to determine his name
which will also be a number
I will write it into your arm
all of the lies they told
will wash over your face
all of their crimes will be recorded in blood
all of their names will be forgotten
turn off the light
stand in the center of the room
this recording will be made available to tourists with your permission
all night harkens against the date palm
grinding his toes into the sand
the water rides out