First appeared in Heavy Feather Review (v. 3.4/Vacancies, February 2015)

Four men were carried forth by the prevailing winds. The winds formed a face we have done much to forget. One of the men took cover in the mouth of its yellowing mention. Two others effortlessly played a part meant for one. There was talk of betrayal, and talk of finale. The fourth gave way to a fifth and was seen never again. All along there was but one principle. And in principle it was followed into a wood, where it led itself around as if on holiday. One day the winds died in a noiseless struggle and the men found themselves at a door that was half there. It was thought the other half was in the hands of a thing not seen. So they put their heads together and listened closely to a motion of themselves. What they heard we have done little to remember, and, of this little, were their hands scratching at their sides.