augury doggerel

Saturday, April 19, 2003


With her mother abed this Easter, the woman will make her first bigos. Our kitchen smells of mushrooms and conceals the ghastly remains of certain beasts.

Meanwhile at the hospital, one roommate has exited in spectacular fashion, with a rush of physicians, induced lightning, and a grand giving up of the ghost. Above another bed, the ghost of a single toe stubs against the flickering light.

Byron died of fever this day in 1824 and was buried deep in myth.


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