When iatic sleeps she dwells in dung.
I call out to her, but the eyes remain closed. They are closed to the world and all it’s banal constitutions.
Her body shivers violently and it is the true cause of the seven manifold earthquakes. Each day and every hour the sea spits up a new vibrating secret with her sneeze.
Dispossessed of all openings, dwelling primarily on the time when the black jelly will unfold. This is iatic in all her unrelatable complexity.
Lastly and most importantly for our readers—
She has recently discovered that the celestial flesh decays much like any other garden vegetable.