There Are No Millers Anymore

Two Thoughts:

1. Dear self: using lotion, especially roommate's lotion that you have 'borrowed', when you don't know what the ingredients are is a terrible idea. DO NOT DO THAT. *itches*
2. If anyone gets their hands on a Dreamwidth invite code and would be inclined to toss it my way, I would love you forever and ever! It looks very interesting and shiny over there, and I've been watching fandom rave about it for long enough that I'm really getting intrigued.

And a poem - I read this for the first time in my senior year of high school, and it's one of those poems that just stuck with me. Robinson has this way of very calmly and quietly writing about the most absolutely horrifying things that I just love, sadistic little bastard that I am. :)

The Mill by Edwin Arlington Robinson

The miller's wife had waited long,
The tea was cold, the fire was dead;
And there might yet be nothing wrong
In how he went and what he said:
"There are no millers any more,"
Was all that she had heard him say;
And he had lingered at the door
So long that it seemed yesterday.

Sick with a fear that had no form
She knew that she was there at last;
And in the mill there was a warm
And mealy fragrance of the past.
What else there was would only seem
To say again what he had meant;
And what was hanging from a beam
Would not have heeded where she went.

And if she thought it followed her,
She may have reasoned in the dark
That one way of the few there were
Would hide her and would leave no mark:
Black water, smooth above the weir
Like starry velvet in the night,
Though ruffled once, would soon appear
The same as ever to the sight.