I said, my love, I’ve paid my dues,

the ferryman awaits,

though he does not wait for you.

We sat in silence as he guided his ship,

slicing through the slick ink of the Styx.

He helped me onto the dock with one

withered, sympathetic arm.

The dog and its three heads turned

to me, watching pensively.

They gave a yip; and beside the fallen tree,

a lone, bent-backed man pu...

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