now there is only silence
and the waiting.
three days. three days. three days.
where do we place the body?
how long?
i was never sure what to believe.
all those stories.
i told you again and again.
it’s not all the weeping;
the gifting of spices.
the echoes of the past.
the portents of the future.
all of us sitting together
quietly.
and the waiting.
how long?
all those stories.
the gifting of spices.
quietly.
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