I.
There was nothing in the slow rush of her red Rayet, nothing in the riddled tale of the noontime siren:

II.
The hunter hunts the unnamed, untamed: they are both faceless, faithless relativities.

III.
Nothing, nothing—the vaccine is running away, ford the stream and force her hand but it would always be the time of day to drown—

…the heart is always the best part.

IV.
so I got me some horses
to ride on to ride on
as long as your army
keeps perfectly still…

V.
The very holocaust: burning bright and beautiful. No one quite comprehends the terror of it all.