Dead Ralph had become absent the wisdom of his creature. A passing dog of light
marked Dead Ralph for viewing, identified the body with transient vision, discovered the
possibility, I mean, of a temporarily more obvious disengagement, a secondary kind of
rebirth in the world absent of Ralph. Like the shadow of a raven departing a castle more
beautiful in its ruins.
The general drinks his coffee and waits for the fruit chef to bring his breakfast
papaya. Even during war, he cannot remember a morning without papaya.
Already, bloated Ralph’s too large for the door of his former self and he cannot
return. The general’s gift shall remain in Ralph’s receptacle.
And suddenly in the gas-hungry heat Ralph’s swollen inside pops out and another
fly’s dream arrives with its host and the remainder of Ralph seems to be watching the fly,
seems to be waiting for the next occasion, the fly waiting for Ralph to further vacate.
Now Ralph’s welcoming the sky and what it gives back is more than a body can
take. The new and distant door humbles him entering.
Followed by screaming birds that plummet into the remainder of Ralph, detaching.
Followed by a vision of vertical Ralph, gone and gorgeous as a sausage.
And the general eating papaya and the general drinking his coffee and the general
remembering. Which appear to be entering his life forever, but are not.
Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2014 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.