THE INTERNE
Reading edition
O the agony of having too much power! In my passive palm are hundreds of lives. Strange alchemy, they drain my blood. My heart becomes iron; my brain copper; my eyes silver; my lips brass. Merely by twitching a supple finger, I twirl lives from me, Strong-winged or fluttering and broken. They are my children: I am their mother and father. I watch them live and die.