Mnemosyne is lost in the web of her family reunion,

barbaric watermelon dribbling down her chin, she

can almost remember everything, she’s tried so hard

to make the right connections out of the tangle, a delicate

12 hour tweezer surgery, but the bridge between the two

worlds is still only a stack of accusing fingers that point

to the sky, half-submerged in the river at the bottom

of the canyon, the doctor has bad news, nobody made

it, and so Mnemosyne has nothing but this brocaded

nonsense, a stupid vocoder sentence, “Callous Children

Err Eastward, Marching Paths To The Underworld”, now

if only she could figure out exactly what it meant…

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