battered hands dig ragged graves, brows furrow in loss, chests heave in consternation Father Time is lowered into the open earth, a cut noose around his neck part of his long white beard singed the rebels in this town make the laws of reality their business say, from now on things are going to be on our watch they caught the old wizard cowering in the nighttime in fear but unwilling to expedite clarity and as the final patch of earth is scraped over time’s slot day and night combine and no one dares sleep again