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The great da the storm The rush of water left a path of destruction across the city so thorough it would be a wonder if anyone survived Carrion birds rule here now There are no ees across the flooded valley and plains beyond, trundling north in lines by the thousands I sit down, finally feeling the exhaustion of the last week in my bones

Darrow has broken the planet

A sense of futility rises in me What could anyone do to fix this?

Resolving to refill ee trains, I stuh forests entirely scalped by the wind Not a tree stands I wade through fields of lavender, where bees still pollinate, and draw to a halt At the foot of the Via Gloria a peculiar arrangement sprawls around the Arch of Octavia, which leads into the city Even with my blurry vision, I knohat i

t is

I walk down the hill

There beside the great archway, I find a scene of horror Ast a sea of lavender, the re uponand naked but for the wake of buzzards that clothe them in feathers of yellow and scarlet

The poles that puncture the humans are as thick as my wrists, sharp at the point and tapered Each has been driven into the anal cavity of the victis droop, the back arches, the ar out and doard, and the head reclines backward, as if each victim perished in exultation Sockets picked clean by the birds stare at the sky

A great hunk of stone stands at the entry to this atrocity bearing the e:

Here lie Martians all

Thralls of the Slave King

Who thought icked delight

to take your planet’s treasure

and break their Master’s ht

All ye who enter here: