four smiling corpses

at the entrance of the cave
and on a rock nearby
sit the philosopher
and the poet

one held by thought
one held by silence
they let the words talk

they have forgotten
the young storyteller
who sits behind the tree
smiling
at their backs

she writes as
the birds sing

for twelve thousand
seven hundred and seventy-five
moon rises and sun sets
they sit alone

until the wandering woman
arrives

she sits naked
in the grass nearby
facing them all

held by her body
she gestures to the storyteller

the poet and the philosopher
turn

they all face each other
their eyes meet
and they weep

great tears flow

a stream forms
and carries them
all
far away

they land
bodies entwined
limbs tangled

the moonlight
reflecting in glass eyes

the villagers discover them
and bury them
as one
unable to separate
four smiling corpses