tourists

The strangers in the woods must mimic squirrels and crackle with the undergrowth. They must not flinch at the cruelty of breaking golden leaves with their feet, or of interring stones. // Rigoberto Gonzáles, The Strangers Who Find Me in the Woods

we follow Moirai down as she points
at the homes of the unturned stones

                                               there
                            and there
and once there

we are as graceless as sinking pigs
but a sight less cruel somehow
breaking leaves
                             spouse and spouse
child and child
                            (there and there
and once there)

archeologists will discover a paradise
in the place no touch died of neglect