Shut in with the dead

I adopted their indifference to what was outside

The living were no friends of ours

they accused us of throwing stones into their sleep

of howling with wolves and echoes

of hindering the rivers’ flow although we'd never pushed ahead of the smallest stream

they said we were rooted though we moved from burial plot to burial plot with our load of crumbling bones

that we were what no longer was

identical only to ourselves

reversible in rainy or in humble weather

The freshly painted newcomers looked at us with disdain

incapable of informing us about what we had become

if we were habitable or inhabited […]