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Stephanie GreenCRÉME BISCUITSThe universe doesn’t take a coffee break in a minute wanting a chat writers will lose inches * * * TWO WARRIORS AND THE LOST WORDSWords hope to become lost within, and in quiescence no one fears. Twenty strong men curl their toes about the branches, lifting the shapeless slumberers higher — higher still, till their claws reach out in dreams, grasping, quaking and clawing for the secrecy of that place. One by One they fall below, and the city devours them, bones and foam edges and all. No one will cut themselves any longer. Heaven forbid one might find a decent coffee in this place. Two warriors lean against the portaloo; they chew sweatbreads and wonder how the world got to be such; how the words have been lost. But in that place with the strong men, and the sleepers, and a tiny white building lazing on a grassy hillock, the words wait. Tomorrow perhaps, after the kids return from rugby practice, the words will also return, but they will be forever changed, only an echo of what they once were. Altogether beautiful and woesome, these eldritch grammaticisms slither forth... That is, if they can return at all. |