The Eloquence

The prime minister was watching a disaster movie when we found him.

- Jorie Graham

We are the media we cried. Run.

The insiders ran around wildly looking for the exits.

On the face of the deep the ghosts of civilization wailed.

The shadow of a doubt dissolved, everyone just trying to understand how what happened happened. Figuring out how became the choicest profession. Don't misunderstand us― we always obeyed the unwritten rules, we always respected the number of minutes allotted for the interview-always believed in the existence of the singular reason for the world's incomprehensible demise. It was not our job to notice the rain no longer fell, we were busy tracking who was logging in and logging out of the current war while new faces of God made their appearances behind our backs as always.

We checked on our stringers.

We called in to get a reading on the deathwatch.

You're breaking up.

Can you give me 50 words The calendar lit up with the dates when each thing of value would no longer exist.

We reported it exactly, the idea was to leave no trace in our language of grief, regret, despair. Not a trace of us must remain.

But where can our lives be hidden we thought as we hurried from telling to telling, permeated with absence.

Then it began to close in all round us, the dry weather of information.

Once I looked up at the clouds as if I'd never felt wind beforeno it did not rain, but I almost remembered the smellwhose list are our names onwe who have passes with access to all the realitieswhen will the bullets cross through uswe who mistake narrative for history...

If there is peace we are less busy so not to be trusted.