"say no to all the garden folk,
and beware, beware those pallid dregs
that find themselves in corners."
said he.
“spread yourself all over like a plague.
look down on all the garden folk. say no, say no,”
said he: “say no.”
“catch the ashes on your tongue,” said he
“and laugh. take your penance-piece of wine and speak
of them – say no. say no. say you're sorry.
say no to all the folk of loam when they turn their sooty hands
up, their arteries embossed like worms –
glistening brown and fully stocked with forfeit!
oh…” said he. “there cannot be a care
for bronze in fall or falling from your stride
into a puddle – a reflection that will dry so that
we can look back down again!”
and he took his penance-piece of wine
and drank with all the might of empires.
“oh,” said he then:
“she was lavish.”
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