"Edge of a lantern's reach.
I loved a monster.
He lived through Babylonia, pitchfork, fire.
Nothing surprised him.
Doom to resurrect each time.
Tiresome crisis, what is it to outlive everyone?
Never to lay down arms, kudzu, no blade cuts down.
My monster loitered in Shibuya, polished his nails black,
scaled cantilevered rooftops.
He favored pomegranates, chambered arils, complex lace.
The body's alcoves, that rough specific ache.
Reader, I slipped him in exchange for revenge.
Trains hummed their clockwork anodyne."
One more segment.