Above the fire a woman is devoured1 by a snake,
unseen.
The leaves are yellow alongside in the wake
the trunks branches
mirror one another, black, rain-soaked.
And now he's old. He trails a hand until it snares2
a leafsaw-toothed.
Clouds break above the buildings
where there had been none.
The snake is old, its jaw3 completely
unhinged for the swallowing.
What now?
There was a continent.
Below, the last gods bum4 along with their last
offerings
no smoke, no film, no evidence.
The gold-shagged blizzard5 of the willow6
spills again.
Climb down. Prevent.
He leans back the oar7 drips like no other memory.