Iphigenia

There was a girl, skinny like a finger, who disappeared up God’s hole, only to reappear seven years later with a cracked taillight and an expired driver’s license, something funny for a change in what has been a long gray season, a dictatorship of sorts, the unconscionable become the new normal, with buzzing swarms of conspiracy-mongers stirring grievances against Jews, Armenians, Rwandans, etc., while judges and lawyers leave bloody handprints on door handles and work parties throw bodies in ovens or down wells, slaving all night every night, the halo of sunrise always seeming to move farther and farther away.