& beards are worn at half-mast;
on the 190 contagion coats the seats
in sedimentary layers, rain maps windows &
we talk kalighat, goats & circling priests
as though 'out of here' could be anything more
than villages hushed into cold churchbells,
supping the religion of pity, faking stigmatas
during puja & Sai Baba brand snowdomes
shaking every bustee lean-to in this
bad blood animist Black Mary town.
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