WHAT I'M GOING
TO HAVE TO SAY
What I'm going to have to say
is a spate of wrong words; dried
out words, like things no longer
wanted. Beseechments in vain,
prayers never spoken. Your Gods
are all coming home. Coming
home means they are leaving.
Going home, in other words,
leaves us with nothing. Dark.
Alone. Very, very, quiet.
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