Forche notes that what we have heard is in fact the truth: that she was in the Colonel's house. She describes this encounter, when his wife served coffee and some sugar, which she brought in on a tray, when the Colonel's daughter manicured her nails with a file and his son left to go out for the night. The papers of the day lay there, his pet dogs attended and there was a pistol resting on a cushion just beside the Colonel. The moon was hanging above the house and a police show was playing on the television, which was showing in English.
Forche considers the broken bottles lying around as potential weapons outside the house, to grate a man's hands or remove his kneecaps. The windows were barred, resembling licensed premises for the sale of alcohol. They ate their dinner, a spread including wine and a rack of lamb, with a gold bell gracing the table, used to summon the maid. She brought some mangoes, green in color, some salt and also a certain variant of bread. Forche nots that she was asked to what extent she liked the country, whilst a short advertisement plays in Spanish. The Colonel's wife removes everything from the table, while some conversation began about governing and its emerging difficulties.
The Colonel's parrot mimics a greeting, before the Colonel silences him rudely. He leaves the table, and Forche's friend advises her with his eyes to remain quiet. When the Colonel returns, he brings a sack of ears. He spills them unto the table and then lifts one, shaking it in front of his guests before placing it in a glass of water. He expresses himself rudely, swearing and disregarding human rights and the people associated with his guests.He brushes the ears unto the floor, holding his glass of wine. He quips at Forche's poetry. Apparently some of the ears on the floor hear his voice.
The speaker is one of thirty-one people in a rubber boat. Everyone, whether living or dead was soaked through, bobbing about in their own filth and dirt. They are determined to float between wars. Ruins were all they had left behind them. A man assures them that if anyone was left behind, he would be ll on their own. A hotel shares a name with the ruined city, and the staff there are friendly and will do anything for you. This is noted as a nonsensical topic of conversation, one that reminds him of the time she pulled a drowned child in a life-jacket out of the sea.
Then Aleppo was destroyed and those in Raqqa were urged to leave, not knowing where to go. The speaker is one of these people in Raqqa, living through the American and Russian soldiers, and then the Americans again, moving through their city. Many times, death loomed nearby, and they awoke, surprised to have wakened alive. They each ponder their options - be eaten on the sea, captured in Europe? They form two camps of opinions, those who want to stay an those who want to leave. This speaker addresses Forche, saying that her career as a poet makes their destination the same. The speaker becomes the boatman, promising to get Forche to safety.
The Visitor
The speaker whispers in the Spanish language, hinting that there is no time left. This whispering sounds like scythes harvesting wheat and fields singing in pain in Salvador. The wind blows along the walls of the prison as he walks, and is described as his wife's breath flowing into his cell at night as he imagines his hand his hers. The country is small and man will do anything to another man.
Ancapagari
A tribe, in its beginning, named the mountains Ancapagari. The name, with a life of its own, travelled across the world and never came back. There were no footsteps there, no deer killed. The stones were opened and the roots of pine trees clawed the rock. Water seeped into the earth and was found bubbling in another palace. Aspen were there and bit the water. If you whispered Ancapagari, you were alight.
Now the people of the tribe are buried and no more roots are taken, yet the roots take hold of the ground as openings appear. They sway within people, connecting one being to another. There is a term for this which moves within a mouth. Forche urges us to speak it.
Ancapagari has finally returned to the mountains it left from. The pines do not die. This name desires to be spoken, and is apparently the name for the god that emerged from among us, according to Forche.
