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FOREST FLOOR Stille฀be฀thou,฀Sathanas! The฀ys฀fallen฀ambes฀aas. Wendest฀thou฀ich฀were฀ded฀for฀noht? ANON.,฀THE฀HARROWING฀OF฀HELL,฀CA.฀1300 The฀winter฀I฀was฀twenty, I฀fell฀in฀love฀with฀James, an฀animate฀isolate฀who฀read medieval฀miracle฀plays in฀a฀basement฀so฀wet that฀slugs฀crossed฀the฀floor, slower฀than฀slow฀sex. They฀carried฀essential฀elements (water?฀darkness?฀DNA?) in฀bodies฀that฀doubled฀as฀heads. We฀lay฀damp฀in฀bed while฀upstairs,฀James’s฀dad, a฀famous฀conservationist, drank฀whiskey฀and฀typed,฀working all฀day฀in฀scary-huge฀white men’s฀briefs.฀Never฀pants. James฀said฀he฀dreamed of฀knowing฀only฀dead฀languages, so฀he฀wouldn’t฀have฀to฀talk to฀his฀father.฀Their฀house smelled฀like฀a฀long฀hike: cedar,฀smoke,฀and฀sweat, and฀their฀land฀went฀on฀for฀miles of฀Douglas฀fir. The฀space฀heater฀burned฀red as฀an฀allegorical฀Satan— luxuriant฀with฀pollution. 57 The฀father฀banged฀his฀keys: Dear฀Senator฀Murray, Dear฀Senator฀Gorton, as฀we฀lay฀there underground, unforgiven. 58 ...

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