Torturous magma will find that flatland stream and smoke it down— —a dry gulch of exposed limbs. ^ This growing’s going to eat you. The audience of red eyes pulled down their town flag quickly. The town flag was most important. It symbolized the pride of the townspeople and there was no greater thing for the townspeople than a method of proclaiming pride. ^ Town Flag, Colorless I had found it odd that the townspeople were so desperate to save the town flag. I had felt its symbol—a mountain—no longer conveyed the things it used to: Oncemountain once symbolized the mountain that bordered the town. Oncemountain has become more of a no touching. Oncemountain has become more of a well, touch, but only because they say we can. Oncemountain has become more of a craving for monopoly. Oncemountain has become more of a swollen child with no aspirations. Oncemountain has become more of a chemical agriculture. Oncemountain has become more of a corpse, basaltic. Oncemountain has become more of a boiling wound. Heat rising. Still rising. I could smell my own sweat. I watched the audience of red eyes roll up the town flag and carry it away— like a harpoon—carried away from the walls of magma closing in. I watched tephra pattern along their shoulders—pattern against the window nearest to my table. Pattern against the foreheads of infants. Pattern against teachings of augur and scenes of shielded existence. Patterned against the cornstalks of the banged-up cornfield. Patterned, unclean.
22 · Into Magma Town