poems about gods and men and the wars between them, the beauty of small things, and peace. He read stories true and not true. Stories about a house in the woods, a hunter and a mermaid, and rabbits in search of a home. And when he was finished and had blown out the candle, she would always ask, as though making certain she was back in her own world, These others, they’re gone, too? Yes, he would say. For a long time now. And we’re alone? Not alone. We have each other. Now go to sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.
