. . . . .

The field was wet, crowded with bacteria that had assembled as a choir. Left alone, they had returned to older ways — squaresinging and ritual chanting — seeding the pews with descendants, each child a cyst.

Upon returning it was clear that there would be little room for calisthenics, forestry, or any other customs regarded as pleasurable, such as that nearly forgotten one where flowers are tossed into wells teeming with hemoglobin.