They are waiting to take us into the severed garden.

You know how pale and wanton thrillful comes death in the strange hour,
unannounced, unplanned for like a scary, over-friendly guest you've brought to bed.

Death makes angels of us all and give us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens' claws.

No more money, no more fancy dress. This other kingdom seems by far the best until its other jaw reveals incest and loose obedience to a vegetable law.

l will not go.

l prefer a feast of friends to the giant family.