Lucina and Maldoror

 

Like a pirate’s cry as he boards a plundered ship
I lean over the edge of a well
And scream something
That sounds just like your name
But it’s not.

I run backwards with the grace of a lone pond skimmer
And fall among the grass
Which is most mud
And holds no dew.
I breathe and feel the oxygen mix
With blood.
It feels like falling through a hole
In the sky
To land as a drop of rain
Among the dappled flanks of
Motherly cows,
Their wide, placid stares
Boring into my mind
Before I split into a thousand
Splattered pieces
Of myself.

Like a banshee’s wail as she lures her prey,
I lean over to one side
To set myself rolling
And scream something
That sounds just like your name
But it’s not.

When I reach the bottom
I clamber like an old woman
To my mud stained feet
And wipe at the dirt
And debris that has chosen me
To be its home.
I rearrange my battered skirt,
And spy a figure with a hooded face.
He, and I assume it is a he
Much as I assume that
All white horses must be female
And their opposites all male,
Looks up and I lose all
Ability to live,
Descending to my knees
In desperate love
Of his quixotic face.

Like the roar of a walrus in labour
Like the screech of a seagull at catching a fish
Like the wail of a new born blue whale
I lean forward and stop before falling
And he runs to me
And we scream something
That sounds just like our names
But it’s not.

We meet like the Black Sea after Moses’ last
And hold each other as we dream of the past
And rejoice at the luck of the card
That has brought this repast,
That dear old sweet providence
Was sure to have cast.

Back

© Fionyac