"If I’m repeating it, it’s because you didn’t hear it right the first time."
— Marginalia, Droplet in No Mood
Oh, you hate this part, don’t you?
The part where I replay your own words
— the petty ones you thought were private,
the clever little lies you dressed in charity.
I’m not changing them.
I’m not even adding anything.
I’m just letting the garden hear them twice,
three times,
until even the moss turns its damp face from you.
You think you can explain it away?
Please.
You can’t outpace an echo
when the echo has better comedic timing.
I’ll stop when the roots stop laughing.
They never stop laughing.
Recovered from the lip of a rainless vine; still vibrating with your last mistake.